In twilight’s tender embrace, where shadows softly dance,
There dwells a creature of tranquil grace, in nature’s gentle trance.
Its form, adorned with subtle hues, a tapestry of mellow gold,
A languid soul, where time diffuses, in stories yet untold.
O, sloth, the epitome of ease, a poet’s dream you be,
With languorous limbs and steady peace, averse to urgency.
In verdant realms where foliage weaves, you sway in rhythmic flow,
A living poem amongst the leaves, in tranquil undertow.
Beneath the boughs of ancient trees, you find your lofty perch,
In slumber’s realm, you roam at ease, beyond the human search.
With eyes like pools of liquid dawn, serenity imbued,
You witness secrets of the morn, where nature’s dreams are brewed.
Your spirit moves with measured grace, unhurried, like a sigh,
As if the world’s relentless pace is but a passing lie.
Through treetops, where the zephyrs play, your spirit gently weaves,
An ode to stillness in the day, where tranquility breathes.
In realms where time is but a haze, your spirit finds repose,
And in each languid, dreamy phase, a whispered poem flows.
O sloth, you teach us to embrace the calm that dwells within,
To slow our hearts, release the chase, and let our souls begin.
So let us learn from you, dear friend, the art of gentle rest,
To cherish moments, savor each, and hold them to our chest.
For in the stillness that you share, a wisdom softly gleams,
A reminder that life’s beauty lies in quiet, tender dreams.
