Brooks of purple and silver tipped,
Daisies on the nectar sip.
The water pure, it flows and dries.
In the warmth of summer time.
In the fall the ripples bear,
The leaves that fell into the wet,
The animals nestled without a care.
The fairies all but slept.
Oh brook of dreams, sing to sleep,
The dancing children, on their feet.
And bubble up from depths below.
Where consciousness will burrow in the rapture of its sorrow.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: October 2nd, 2025 20:20
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 24
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Friendship, Violet_Writes
Offline)
Comments2
A beautiful poem written with great rhyme and good meter it flows nicely. Well done and a fave
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You are very welcome
Well written, your poem explores the beauty and tranquility of nature, particularly through the imagery of a brook. It evokes feelings of nostalgia, peace, and the cyclical nature of life, encompassing themes of childhood innocence and the natural world’s serenity.
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