In the stillness of the forest, where whispers dwell,
The trees stand tall, with stories to tell.
Their roots dig deep into the earth’s embrace,
Anchoring the past in their silent grace.

Leaves flutter softly, a whispering choir,
Singing tales of old, of love and desire.
Branches reaching out to touch the sky,
Clad in emerald hues, they stand by and by.

Seasons come and seasons go,
Through sunlit days and winter’s snow.
The trees remain, steadfast and true,
Witnesses to all, the old and the new.

In their shade, we find solace and peace,
A moment to pause, a sweet release.
The trees, our silent guardians of time,
Forever standing, in rhythm and rhyme.