A Jingle By The Green

Yet the golden bell when tune wakes up from the sorrow as inspiring by the hope of tomorrow the dream when jingles by the green the graceful glow when painted by the rays of rainbow when unseen into the folds of the cloud the morning as delightful by the mirror searching upon the milieu the gleeful flairs as glazed when delved out from the crowd deep as shimmering across the moon when untouched even by the rain the mute voices when besotted by the cuckoo’s song the breath slithers one after the other the dream onto the hope unexhausted by the quests and queries for the musk to follow still we move by the passion pattens never seem to be of your own