Hammocks swinging wistfully
Sunday for what it's meant to be
Not stuck in with football on the telly

Fingers freezing but that's no reason
To cease teasing the chunky acoustic
It's not my favourite choice and it feels
I'm clunking fruitlessly but the
Ringing strings harmonize with the
Birds melodic chime and sublimely
Compliments Jaime's dulcet, dusky voice
Singing as she's weaving leaves and trees
Can't help herself, she's building a shelter

Although there's no Pine linger tingling
Senses and sparse spent branches
Barely match the dense walled thatch
Of our home from home in the forest

Imagination's all it takes
To shake a million miles away
From the woods on the edge
Of a housing estate