In the quiet corners of an ancient wood,
Where sunlight dances on leaves of green,
Stand the trees, in stoic brotherhood,
Witnesses to all that has been.

Their roots embrace the earth below,
As branches reach for skies afar,
In whispers soft, their secrets flow,
Carried on the breeze like a gentle guitar.

Seasons change, yet they remain,
Silent sentinels of time’s embrace,
Through storm and sun, through joy and pain,
They hold the stories of every place.

Beneath their shade, life finds its way,
In their presence, peace is found,
The trees, with wisdom, softly say,
In nature’s arms, we’re forever bound.