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.