In a thin but steadfast trickle you flow,
constantly splishing and splashing along,
coming from somewhere that I do not know.
All the sudden, a melody, a song,
starting to sing as you grow larger now,
until you quickly crash down, but with grace,
into a creek, which is a running plow.
Now you, too, are bounding at a swift pace.
Faster, harder, and louder still you go;
Getting brisker with ev’ry single stride,
you’re swaying and zig-zagging to and fro.
Dashing downhill do you joyfully ride.
You fall off a cliff and will never cease,
Until at last you find your blissful peace.