Beneath a dome of morning dew,
A tiny world of emerald hue,
Where velvet moss and spore-caps rise,
Before two pairs of curious eyes.
A jade-skinned frog upon his spire,
A fuzzy mouse in soft attire,
They pause beneath the umbrella shade,
In this quiet, secret glade. No words are shared, no steps are taken,
As if the forest hasn't waken,
A fleeting moment, soft and bright,
Caught within a dream of light.