The Stream

With laughter twining through the copse, The stream is a ribbon of silver light, Dancing and chatting as it hops, To weave through the meadow in joyous flight.

It whispers tales of old, of new, In rippling tongues that soothe the ear, And every bend holds something true, A moment of peace, tender and near.

Oh, how it flows with life and grace, Reflecting deeper than the eye can see, In the stream’s soft song, I find my place, A dance of nature, forever free.

• AJM Smith