At the bottom of a wooded valley
Lies a dead creek bed alley
A peaceful silence
Where its memories rest
Of a murmuring quest
Towards the vastest ocean
Amongst the grasses of the glade
Under the foliage, in the shade
Colored dryads are made
Intense and mysterious
Sensitive and delirious
Each with their unique trait
A withering, bent fate,
Exhuming their perfume in the shaded valley
Under the moon
