Beneath the sprawling emerald boughs,
Where whispers of the ancient wind reside,
Stand the oak trees, in silent vows,
A testament to the earth’s gentle tide.

Their roots delve deep into the past,
Embracing stories untold, unsaid,
A connection to lands vast,
Where dreams and reality are gently wed.

With branches reaching to the skies,
They cradle the hopes of a thousand years,
In their shade, the weary soul lies,
Whispering secrets, shedding hidden fears.

Seasons pass, yet they remain,
Guardians of time, steadfast and true,
In their presence, all seems plain,
The eternal dance of life anew.