One fine day, I sat down a tree,
Holding a book beside a running brook;
Cool breeze waved my hair hii,
A sweet singing Coco sung me a rhyme.
So pretty the sight, I began to write,
of winds and birds, for trees and cocoons.
But is my poem worthy of the beauty,
that my eyes saw, my body felt?
For words can not justice nature\'s beauty,
But that\'s what poets do;
try their part too,
to bring to life their words,
making them alive for readers.
I gasped in my running thoughts,
portray the image I saw,
My beautiful poem now alive,
read it slow and in your mind.