It doesn’t have to be
The waves of fish-city smashing against the shore ,
Or the singing of a playful sparrow on a Sunday morning,
Or the warm afternoon breeze as the sun sets like the fiery fur of a king lion’s mane.

It could be
The rattling of an old tractor strolling across the rocky ground ,
Or the loud squawking of a sky-robber,
Or the small winding road ,a miniature passage-way, choosing one special person to walk through at a time.

Just pause and cherish
The last petal on a rose,
Realise how a rain drop glimmers like an opal,
Can you notice the unnoticed?