The forest beckons, dark and deep,
A labyrinth of shadows, where secrets sleep.
The trees, like sentinels of old, stand guard,
Their whispers weaving, a mysterious cord.
The wind, a wanderer, roams, lost and free,
Through branches swaying, like arms that beckon me
To follow paths, that wind and twist and turn,
Into the heart, of woods that yearn to learn.
The leaves, like golden coins, rustle and fall,
A treasure trove, of stories, heard by all.
The trees, like sages, wise and old and gray,
Hold secrets close, of life and death and May.
The forest whispers truths, in tones so low,
Of wonder, awe, and mysteries that glow.
In darkness hidden, yet to be revealed,
A world of magic, where dreams are concealed.