The Jungle   

The tinkling murmur of the waters,

The sappy scent of teak.

The air is filled with sound,

Yet silent as if you couldn't speak.

Fragile branches strewn throughout,  

Crunching beneath padded paws.    

The relentless day ruptures its banks,  

As sunlight bursts its doors.    

The soft lilting melody  

Of prodigious swaying trees,  

Is accompanied by the harmony  

From the mischievous monkeys.    

One gust of wind is all it takes,  

To blow the floor away,  

But thankfully the air is still,  

So for now the carpet will stay.    

The heat will eventually hit,  

Rendering your legs to no good.  

And before long your body will realise.  

That in the jungle is where your stood.