You are the strings of a lyre,
Shaking forever until time’s end.
You are a towering tower,
Watching from atop the streets in The Hague.
You are the pencil on the paper,
Giving guidance to the writer of the poem.
You are the wings of a dragonfly,
Fluttering in the leaves of autumn.
You are the sound of a fireplace,
Being blown in the air of a living room.
You are the scent of a candle,
Flying into the noses of noble people.
You are a sapling, waiting so much, yet so little,
To become a great pine tree.
You are the season of summer,
Heating the souls of adventurous travellers.
You are the sky,
Overlooking the residents of planet earth.
You are a book,
Bursting with information on every one of it’s pages.
You are a star,
Glistening in the darkness of the night sky.
You are a cloud,
Packed with gallons of water
You are an ant, striving the grass,
Pleading to not get crushed.