Tell me a tale of the sparkling seas
full of odd riches and timidity,
covered in lives lost with nary a thought,
stained with the coral-bound lessons you've taught.

Weave me an epic of the gold-crusted clouds
that filter through air and make not one spare sound,
filled with the voices of chanting young boys,
and all of the most heavenly ilk of noise.

Spin me a story of leaves green and pure
which drift toward the heavens with sensory ores,
that make for the sky as they stretch emerald-tall
before the time comes when they just have to fall.