The Sweetest Thing

In meadow green, ‘neath moon’s soft sheen, a prickly maiden dwelt,
A lass so small, in spines enthralled, and sweet-tooth passions felt.
She sought her fill, o’er hill and rill, of treasures sugar-coat,
In strawberries’ blush, in yoghurt’s rush, on sweetness she did dote.

With chocolate bits she’d have her fits, so blissful to the taste,
And honey drips from bees’ sweet lips, made haste her heart to chase.
Ice cream so cold, and cookies bold, their charm was ne’er denied,
Her dream was thus, in candied fuss, forever to abide.

From dawn’s first light, till deep in night, she’d scavenge, search and find,
Confection quest, no time for rest, she’d to her mission bind.
But as twilight fell, she’d hear the knell, of another day gone by,
And with weary sigh, under starlit sky, she’d rest her tiny eye.

As moonlight danced, she chanced a glance, to the dreamscape, she would leap,
And found in the quiet of night’s respite, a sweetness none could keep.
A yawn, so small, the sweetest call, more honeyed than the rest,
In its peaceful lull, her heart was full, in slumber’s arms caressed.

And thus, the tale of tiny hog, of sugar-filled breed,
Unearths a truth within us all, lays humble, slumber’s need.
Her yawn that parts the hush of dusk, a sweetness unmatched, it seems,
Brings solace pure, and peace secure, in embrace of night-time dreams.







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