A gentle stream through mossy stones did flow,

Beneath the willow’s graceful, bending bough,

Where silver minnows in the sunbeams glow,

And dragonflies in iridescent show.

An ancient oak stood sentinel on high,

Its branches tracing patterns ‘gainst the sky,

While birds their evening melodies let fly,

As golden clouds began to drift on by.

Two children paused their hurried race to stare,

At nature’s perfect moment hanging there,

They dipped their toes without a single care,

And breathed the sweetened, blossom-scented air.

The brook kept whispering its age-old song,

Of moments present, and of ages long,

Reminding all who listen all day long,

That in simple joys we truly do belong.

A gentle stream through mossy stones did flow,

Beneath the willow’s graceful, bending bough,

Where silver minnows in the sunbeams glow,

And dragonflies in iridescent show.

An ancient oak stood sentinel on high,

Its branches tracing patterns ‘gainst the sky,

While birds their evening melodies let fly,

As golden clouds began to drift on by.

Two children paused their hurried race to stare,

At nature’s perfect moment hanging there,

They dipped their toes without a single care,

And breathed the sweetened, blossom-scented air.

The brook kept whispering its age-old song,

Of moments present, and of ages long,

Reminding all who listen all day long,

That in simple joys we truly do belong.