The TV just shows blood and gore,
What have we to be happy for?
The sweet breeze that smells of dew,
The bird that cries toodle-oo, toodle-oo.
Butterfly wings, dandelion flower,
The stars resting in their sweet bower.
Leaves of green, petals of red,
The moonlight after the clouds have fled.
Ryan Brooks
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/leaves-of-green/
