The old stone whispers, "Play here," like mommy said when she had to go.
In the garden, they say, flowers are like stars but resting in the ground's arms.
The big tree holds secrets — I heard it listen yesterday, quiet as a kite.
Rain today tastes like salty sea and dreams of tiny fish and brave turtles.
The moon took the sun's song last night; it sleeps today, tired of silvery echoes.