Perfect time

The breeze brushing through the trees The sun slowly rising from the mountains The lake calm and glass over the top Not a ripple to be seen The fog set in gentle and thick Not a car to be heard for miles Yet 2 young souls travel the park Disturbing the lake, letting the ripples flow The fog beings to rise away Shining through and gleaming on the lake The sun warms the air as these souls play The trees begin to settle down Cars start to go noisy over town What once was beautiful is now regular Until tomorrow nothing is perfect