In the alchemist's garden, a mystic veil of the blossom, it whispers secrets to passing winds, a delicate shield to the heart of nature's creation.

I fell from space with a fiery tail, I’m a rock that went on a sky-high trail. I zoom through space both day and night, A rocky visitor that gives a fright.

Before a saur like a Dino, But a poke instead. A conductor of light, spun right over head. Buried alive, end of season it dreads. Phoned-in ‘us’ at the end, it’s plump and round-ed.

Orderly fields where the giants rest, cradling the sweetest of treasures on their arms. Whispers of a gentle breeze and soothing rain would cause the faintest of stirs, but ultimately, they only slumber on.

Round and round the sun we go, each day marked in a row. My pages turn, seasons flow, keeping track of time's gentle show.