The songs of the birds,
That flew across the sky,
As we jumped off of swings,
Believing we could fly.

The sounds of the leaves,
That rustled as we drew,
Painting pictures with the clouds,
Evoking all we knew.

The music we made,
That hung of the branches
As we dove to catch the butterflies,
Treasuring them like kisses.

The buzzing of the bees,
That hovered over the flowers
As we gathered them for vases,
Making them into bowers.

The twinkling of stars,
That shone in the night like diamonds in the heaven,
As we looked for the constellations,
Hearing the fireflies beckon.