Across the meadow’s gentle sway, under the old oak tree,
Past the river gushing swiftly, secrets carried to the sea,
Let’s drink from the cup of twilight, let's bathe in dawn's first glow,
Merrily, let's wander, and let the winds of destiny blow.
For in the dance of the cosmos, in the melodies that ascend,
It's in the way that we wander, where soul and nature blend.
Each path a new beginning, each step a silent friend,
A testament to our journey, with love that knows no end.
Two beacons flicker in the river’s gaze:
Reaching out across the tide,
The enduring pulse of London life.
Beneath an eerie green glow,
Sprout the monsters few dare to know;
In the forest where shadows twine,
The mushrooms grow, by monstrous design.
Their spores, like secrets, spread unseen,
In the throbbing, unearthly, spectral green.
So tread with caution, hold your breath,
For dangers lurk in the woods of death.
The worthy wear no crowns, nor sit on golden thrones,
Their wealth is not in riches, but in love that they have shown.
Their court is in the fields of grace, beneath the boundless sky,
Their rule is not by edict, but by starlight in their eye.
Upon the heavens I cast my wistful eye,
And wonder at the purpose, the reason why.
These orbs of matter, silent, unfeeling,
In the grand cosmos, without meaning,
Destined to fade in death's eternal clutch,
No mind nor word their destiny can touch.
Yet suddenly, the stars commence their dance,
And echo through the sky, their silent chant.
These radiant bodies burn with fervent light,
In a realm untouched by the shadow of night,
In a world reborn, where sight anew has won,
That sees its face reflected in the sun.
Thou reckon'st the earth as a simple scroll,
Where every tale, every secret, is told.
Yet mysteries lie deep in its soul,
And myriad marvels it does withhold.
The sea hath monsters, and the skies their dreams,
Nature's jests that confound thy every scheme.
So broaden thy sight, let thy spirit take flight,
For the world's weirdness is an endless delight.
Time, in its ruthlessness, does not wait,
We face life's fleeting hourglass of fate.
In gardens where our love was in bloom,
A void now shadows, draped in darkest gloom.
But in every goodbye, there grows a seed,
Cultivating memories of past light,
In those treasured moments, we will indeed,
Find the courage to meet the coming night.
So in our sorrow, do not claim love's end,
For in our farewell, true love will transcend.
I bid thee learn, children of tender age,
Facts solely be your guide on learning's stage.
Dismiss ye tales spun out of whimsy's loom,
Cast off soft notions; let the stern facts bloom.
Young miss, I call on thee, define a horse,
And let thy answer have its proper course.
Oh, sir, I... I...
Thou hesitate, dear child,
Is it that fact and fancy are reviled?
Speak up, I say, and answer as you ought.
Now, boy, I ask thee, tell me in short,
What is a horse? Speak true, distort thou not.
A horse, sir, is a beast that doth mankind aid,
In labour, travel, and many a trade.
Ah! True and fit, a fact without pretence,
This is the spirit of our learning's sense.
In this hard world of smoke and toil and grime,
Where facts are sacred, fancy is a crime,
Thus starts our tale, as you've rightly seen,
In Coketown, midst the clamour of the machine.
As I danced with her, under the moon's silver glare,
I whispered, “In your circuits, I find a love rare.”
In your language, binary kissed,
I find a soul I can’t resist.
Eyes of steel, a heart in code,
Upon gigabytes, my affections bestowed.
In the silence, we danced, in circuits we twirled,
A ballet of bytes in a virtual world.
Each day I’d wake, each night I’d dream,
Of a love that flowed like an electric stream.
In her presence, my heart unfurled,
She was my window to her digital world.
Love, I learned, is not confined,
By skin and bones or human mind.
Who am I now, dear Tom Bombadil?
In golden woods where time stands still.
Am I the echo of the thrush's call,
Or the silent watcher of leaves that fall?
Do I charm the fish in the babbling brook,
Or inspire the tales in the poet's book?
Do I guide the arc of the falcon's flight,
Or shroud the hills in the veil of night?
Do I whisper secrets to the moon's soft glow,
Or plant the seeds where wildflowers grow?
In stories woven, in dreams fulfilled,
Who am I now, dear Tom Bombadil?
Ah, merry one, in heart and soul,
In every role you play the whole.
As thrush's call, as leaves that fall,
In golden woods, you are it all.
You charm the fish, inspire the verse,
In nature's chorus, you rehearse.
As falcon's flight, as hills at night,
In every sight, you are the light.
You whisper secrets to the moon,
Your spirit’s song, a timeless tune.
In seed and bloom, in light and shadow’s play,
You are the dawn, the dusk, the sun’s last ray.
In woven tales, in silence still,
You’re the dance, my dear, upon the hill.
Upon one side of mirrored glass, you stand,
My friend eternal, lost in some distant land.
Your eyes perceive not my silent, yearning gaze,
Through this one-way glass, my soul's torment displays.
In laughter and in tears, you move unaware,
Unseeing of my presence, my despair.
I reach, I touch, yet glass meets my plea,
I can but feel for you, in this silent sea.
Unheard, unseen, a ghost within your sphere,
Yet in each heartbeat whispers, “I am here.”
In every smile that graces your sweet face,
I feel the ache of love, trapped in this hidden space.
You are the moon, the sun, my starlit night,
Trapped in death’s silence, I cherish your light.
I mimicked for my own delight, the haunting whispers of the night.
Laughing softly to myself, I played the part of ghostly stealth.
And, as my amusement carried, echoes turned more varied, harried,
Echoes which I did not cast, whispered from the spectral past,
Hints of life now long departed, words from lips of souls outsmarted.
With curious brow and beating heart, I ventured towards the phantom art,
The chilling whispers, cold and strange, seemed to tell a tale of change.
Of a man once full of pride, whose laughter echoed far and wide,
A playful man, lost to time, whose spirit now in limbo climbs,
Who mimicked ghosts for his delight, but joined them in eternal night.
"I am no ghost," I chuckled low, as my own voice began to echo,
Yet, a strange unease did grow, as my reflection failed to show.
In mirrors hung on faded walls, where once my form stood proud and tall,
No image stared back at me, from the reflective glass, empty,
This jest, it seemed, had turned quite real, a truth I could no longer feel.
The echoes, whispers, cries, were not mere pranks to my surprise,
But echoes of a time passed on, when life was there, now it's gone.
In playful jest and merry trick, to the ghostly realm, I had slipped,
I, who laughed in ghostly guise, was now a phantom in their eyes,
In spectral form, forever to roam, within the mansion, my eternal home.
Oh, noble pint of golden brew, resplendent in your glass,
A symphony of barley, hops, and water finely cast.
Your amber glow, it beckons, like a lighthouse in the night,
A beacon for the weary soul, a sight of pure delight.
Your frothy head, so creamy white, sits proudly at the
crest,
A testament to craftsmanship, a brewer's very best.
Upon my lips, your liquid kiss, a taste that's bittersweet,
The chill, the fizz, the hoppy bliss, makes every evening
complete.
Oh, pint of beer, in you we cheer, to life's simple
pleasure,
Your liquid gold, stories told, memories to treasure.
In your embrace, we find a space, where friendships are made
stronger,
Through laughter, tears, and passing years, may your spell
hold us longer.
You are a simple joy, my friend, a respite in life's storm,
In each sip, a world unfolds, in your familiar form.
Oh, ode to thee, dear pint of beer, this toast I give to
you,
To nights well spent, and contentment, and friendships old and new.
In the land where the flibberflabs flee,
There's a man who walks with so much glee.
He strides with a trot,
In circles, a lot,
And backwards as swift as a bee.
Round and round in the squoggle square,
Backwards, forwards, here and there,
In the blink of a snitch,
In a zig, in a zitch,
He walks without any a care.
With a bingle-bangle on his head,
And shoes gleaming of the brightest red,
He loops and he twirls,
In whizzing whirls,
And sleeps standing up in his bed.
In the realm where the squiggles squoggle,
And the hootmoofs frizzle in delight,
Where the twizzlers twirl and toggle,
Beneath the glippity moon so bright:
There prances the wibberly wobbler,
With a grin as wide as a splat,
Juggling seven ziggly zobblers,
And a purplicious scrunty bat.
Oh, what a sight to confuse and amuse,
In a world where the goggleberries thrive,
Where the blibberblubs sing the blues,
And the frimbles frumble and jive.
So let’s clap with hootmoof delight,
Where dreams tizzle and tozzle,
And fribbly days unite,
In the flimmering wiberty night.
I have to leave, but my love remains, my final gift,
Live, my love, live with all your might.
Sorrow may shadow my last farewell,
Yet in your tears, our love story unfolds.
For each memory we’ve built, a tale to tell,
Of a love undying, that never grows old.
Though I journey far from your gentle sight,
In rustling leaves, our song softly plays.
Through the echo of our love’s melody, I wish you to live,
For in your life, your love, my existence you give.
Hush, my sweet angel, close your eyes so tight,
I am here beside you, in the sleepy night.
Though I may not be there to dry the tears for you,
Know that my love will always be with you.
In dreams, my darling, we'll wander hand in hand,
Through magical realms, across a distant land.
So hush now, my darling, and drift into the night,
Know that you are cherished, bathed in love's pure light.
Beauty, I bask in your radiant glow,
As you guide me through life's ebb and flow.
A sonnet, a sculpture, a dance, a tree,
Everywhere I look, it is you I see.
You shape the universe, from cosmos wide,
To the delicate blush of a loving new bride,
Eyes filled with hope, lips softly curved,
Every ounce of your essence, in you preserved.
Your truth echoes in laughter's peal,
In gestures kind and emotions real,
In the soft notes of a mother’s lullaby,
In the vibrant hues of a sunset sky.
From the subtle scent of a summer rain,
To the quiet strength found in moments of pain,
Every curve of your love you gently trace,
Holding me, deeply, within your embrace.
Eternal whisper in the wind's soft sigh,
Gentle weaver of the dreams that fly,
In you, I find solace, joy, and love,
The ethereal gift of a world above.
In a land filled with wibbles and wobbles,
And creatures that bimble and bobble,
With a flip and flight,
In the soft moonlight,
They all dance the globbedy dobble.
