Hear ye, Hear ye!

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

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