Softly runs the river
On the grassy snoring hills.
Cautious chirping of the crickets
holding mellow trills.
The moonlight glows upon the stream,
like honey flowing on,
twinkling stars like golden glitter
sparkles up upon.
A tiny falling pebble;
a silver shooting star.
Shattering fiery pieces
sets the crystal clear water to war.
The broken pieces fall
the treasured mirror shattered.
Drops of glass bursts outside
leaving soldiers flattered.
The broken river weeps
the wind can hear its cries
But soon, the splashing noise is gone;
all commotion dies.
The sweet ripple of the stream
spreads out like cold clear syrup.
Like magic, the river is healed again
the witnesses return their chirrup.