The laughs pealed out
With such life
That the mountains couldn’t help
But try to catch the sound.
Giving chase as the noise bounds.
Slipping past ancient hands.
Only to fade in time.
And it’s good that it did not last
Because each attempt at mimicking
The pure laughs
Just returned more hollow and pale.
Fading.
Because a laugh should never
Be hollowed out completely.
Nobody should hear
Its other side.
The Proud Dandelion 