Moanalua

by Rosie Cullen

There is a place with a old wooden fence,

green grass as far as the eye can see,

blue sky’s above,

where all you hear is the mountain birds whistle,

the bullfrogs croak,

the trees talking,

and the river racing.

 

There is a place where all you smell is the flowers

and the fresh bread from the bakery down the street.

 

There is a place where all you feel is the fresh summer air

and the morning due on the grass

where you can feel the sweat running down your face

with the unforgettable sweet taste of the mountain apples and lilikois.

There is a place where you just want to curl up by the fire at night

and drink hot chocolate

and eat warm soup

like the one mom used to make when you were little.

A place where you just want to take a minute to breath it all in

There is a place that I miss

a place I moved away from

this place is Moanalua

this is my place.