Once, in a village as lively as could be, there stood a grand old jackfruit tree. Its branches spread wide, offering shade, and its fruit so sweet, never decayed.

Under this tree, children would play, singing and laughing all through the day. On a bright and sunny afternoon, they spotted a path leading to the moon.

With giggles and grins, off they went, to the temple where their days were spent. The temple high on the mountain steep, with secrets and stories it kept deep.

They reached a bell-like pagoda grand, sparkling bright above the land. 'Ding-dong, ding-dong,' rang the temple bell, in harmony, casting its spell.

In the temple, women in sarongs bright, and men in Morhom shirts, what a sight! They welcomed the kids with joyful cheer, their colorful clothes bringing them near.

Wat Hin Thaen, like a white junk, roamed, with a Buddha image so warmly homed. 'Let's ask for blessings,' said Tommy with glee, 'under the big white Bodhi tree!'

The white church, oh beautiful indeed, with spots for blessings anyone could read. Mighty Thao Wetsuwansuwan was his name, his protective spirit, like a kindling flame.

By the river, a boat so grand, promised adventure, oh how grand! 'Let's sail home the other way,' they exclaimed, 'on the rippling water, not the same.'

Back home by the jackfruit tree, sat they, chatting with mom in the twilight bay. Tales of temples, of bells and songs, under the stars where they belonged.

'Oh how we love the temple's charm, and its bell, an airy alarm,' they chorused with laughter bright, 'can we visit again tomorrow night?'

The Thai-style pavilion whispered dreams, of adventures, and rippling streams. 'In our hearts, forever we'll keep, the stories of the temple, as we sleep.'

And under the big jackfruit tree, this place they'll love eternally. With dreams of temples high and grand, in this magical, whimsical land.