In the moonlit forest, shadows dance and weave,
Whispers of secrets that the night does conceive.
Footsteps echo softly on the ancient ground,
Mysteries of the ages in silence are bound.

The trees, they murmur tales of forgotten lore,
Of ghosts and spirits that forever soar.
An owl’s call pierces the tranquil night,
Guiding lost souls with its haunting flight.

The wind carries stories that no one can see,
Of hidden treasures beneath the old oak tree.
Stars above, like watchful eyes, gleam,
Illuminating the forest, like a half-remembered dream.

In this place where shadows and light intertwine,
The mysteries of the night are a sign.
For those who seek with an open heart,
The forest’s secrets will slowly impart.