left briar
A vivid sunshine of this blissful morn,
touched my fresh bare feet.
A cool gust of wind swung,
Which purified and abluted me neat.
And behold, the chirping birds who sing,
During the dawn that influences my mood.
Just like the melodious sounds,
Produced by a piccolo I include.
What a fascinating diorama!
What a mystical glory, you see!
Pillows in the sky move about,
Vibrant flowers in my garden bloom pretty.
Butterflies flutter here and there,
Crystal clear quartz twinkle on the leaves.
Which when are jerked due to wind,
Drip on my face, cold and wet it sieves.
frozen wyvern