In the quiet whispers of the morning dew,
Where the world is painted in hues of green,
Mary finds solace in the forest’s embrace,
A place where her soul feels serene.

The rustle of leaves tells ancient tales,
Of life, love, and endless skies,
She listens with a heart wide open,
To nature’s gentle, soothing cries.

Each flower, each tree, a masterpiece,
Crafted by the hands of time,
Mary sees the beauty in every detail,
In every rhythm, in every rhyme.

With pen in hand, she captures the essence,
Of the wild, the free, the pure,
Through her words, we walk through the forests,
And in her poetry, we find a cure.