The petrified elephant stood so still,
A relic of the past, a memory to instill,
A monument to time, a fossil of old,
Yet nature's persistence, its story told.
Moss grew on him, a cloak of green,
A symbol of life, a vibrant sheen,
A contrast to his stony gray,
A testament to the cycle of decay.
Once a living, breathing creature,
Now an artifact of nature's feature,
A reminder of what once was,
A symbol of time's steady buzz.
But in his stillness, a sense of peace,
A moment frozen, a calm release,
A beauty in his quiet repose,
A stillness that nature bestows.
So let him stand, in stoic grace,
A guardian of time, a silent trace,
The petrified elephant, forever still,
A symbol of life, a memory to instill.