Hear ye, Hear ye!
The tip of Father Time touched a soul,
And a fallen tree became a story,
Inside a personâ€™s journal,
In which ran away with these such subjects.
The purple mountain majesties wouldâ€™ve been jealous,
For the ancient Spirits crowned these ones with jewels of courage.
â€œHear ye, Hear ye!â€ The wind sharply protested,
At each and every turn of Lifeâ€™s events,
â€œCome all thee Faithful,â€
Said Mother Nature.
Make people curiouser and curiouser!
These seeds mightâ€™ve been thrown down,
But a will to grow took roots somewhere.
â€œI Love to see all the people dancing from within,â€
A sweet messenger from the Universe said,
Suddenly at the crack of the Earthâ€™s dawn,
When the rooster crowed with the intense autumn winds.
Another story graciously written, just on the tip, of Father Timeâ€™s infinite wingspan.