Hear bells ring,

Listen, listen.

Hear children sing,

Listen, listen.

There they go, soft and low,

Through the trees and valleys below,

If only they knew to listen.

They laugh, and they play,

And they giggle for days,

If only they knew how to listen.

I’ve seen the works of beauty so old,

And treasures of which are bought and sold,

If only they knew where to listen.

The leaves then turn and fall to the ground,

As months go by and years go round,

If only they knew when to listen.

The reason is clear to those who wait,

As they are the ones who find solace in fate.

Whispers in trees,

Soft melodies,

Centuries of poets that have come before me,

To them I say listen, listen.