The tinkling bells of joy,

Like a siren’s song luring people in,

Like a call for children,

The tinkling music,

You line up for an ice cream,

You can’t wait to get a taste of the pure happiness,

Swirled into a delicate cone,

Delivered with care,

The line sure is long,

As everyone wants to get ice cream,

But you wait,

As you also want the lush-sounding ice cream cone,

As time passes,

The line begins to shrink,

Ever so soon,

You’re in the front of the line,

You’re eager to get ice cream,

You smile broadly at the ice cream person,

Just as you were about to order,

The ice cream person says, “Which flavor do you want?" to the person behind you.