
MOUNTAINS;Colorado Rockiesby Donna Garrett FryeThe mountains are as high as the sky. The birds are free to fly. The aspen are turning, It soon will be cold. A golden sight, That never grows old. The majestic slopes, Now covered with snow, Are reflected in lakes Miles below. The lakes are mirrors Of this dream-like place, Framing the beauty Of the mountain's face. Oh, why won't a serene land last? Touched by man's hand, It's all in the past. | ![]() |

