On a cloudless sunny day, last week,



I met a man who could not speak.



Yet he wanted to relate something to me,



So with pen and paper I began to see.







He had been walking, in a hidden grove, alongside a stream,



Full of all the beauty, that only nature’s gifts can dream.



He stopped by a fountain, to breathe in the sight,



The river sparkling a thousand diamonds, in the sunlight.



He was resting on a rock, when he heard music begin to play,



And he espied a nymph in the river, who started to dance and sway.



Her blond hair was covered, with morning glory flowers,



And sunlight bounced off her, cascading into showers.



As the naiad danced she splashed the diamonds into the air,



Then dove under the water, as if knowing he was there.



She emerged inside a whirlwind, impetuous with caprice,



Then disappeared upon a cloud, carried by a silken breeze.



The music then stopped playing, and the man was dumbstruck,



He had a vision of such loveliness, he could not believe his luck.



But from that day to this, he could not utter a word,



For the Nymph had stolen his voice, isn’t that absurd?