A gentle breeze passed by my face
I closed my eyes to feel it more
A tender touch from nature's grace
Days like this I do adore
A gentle stream went flowing by
Making song with rock and stone
Softly sounding, almost shy
Peaceful waters seldom known
A tree stood still, yet waved at me
With gentle branches stretching out
My mind in trance how this could be
As nature takes her walk-about
Moistened leaves began to cry
But birds still sang their songs from branches
Singing out, the clouds came by
They yielded not and took their chances
Now time and tide will never wait
It's time for me to leave this place
On this day I'll close the gate
And let the sun to sleep with grace
A long grey beard runs down to his tummy,
He carries a wand by his side,
A big pointy hat sits atop his head,
And he wears his blue robe with pride.
A wizard is he, full of good magic,
Helping those who are in need,
With the twitch of his wrist and a whispered word,
He can cast a spell with great speed!
The other day, there was a dwarf
Who was lost and alone in a storm.
A wizard came by and with a zap,
Sent the dwarf quickly back home!
If this wizard was a good friend of yours,
What would you ask him to do?
Fly to the moon or become a great king?
I bet he would do it for you!
A Horse so beautiful and rare to see;
What is it called and where could it be?
On its head it has a horn,
Oh yes, I remember! It’s called a unicorn.
They are mostly white;
Or of a color that is bright.
Are they seen in the night?
Or do they prefer the daylight?
Such mysterious creatures.
With majestic features.
Take a look and you’ll see all sorts of things;
Like beautiful wings.
We know not what you mean,
Nor where they can be seen.
Well, so it may seem,
Until you meet them in a dream!
I said I'd wait a thousand years
A thousand years I've waited
The fragile seeds of hope I've hewn
Have blossomed forth-
The span of time, the falling sand
That journeys down the glass
Has shivered down to rest against
The last wish of the past
Words I've writ of you by night
Have lightened now by day
Would that I could read them now
I'd not hear what they say.
Truthfully, the beauty of a newly conjured flame
Undeniably must end
When met with winter rain.