In the quiet woods where whispers dwell,
Mary finds her soul’s own shell.
Among the leaves and gentle streams,
She weaves her life, her tender dreams.

Her words like rivers softly flow,
Through meadows where wildflowers grow.
In every line, the earth she hears,
A tapestry of joy and fears.

The sky her canvas, wide and free,
She paints with love what eyes can see.
In solitude, her spirit sings,
With nature’s grace, her heart takes wings.

Through shadows deep and sunlight’s dance,
She finds in life a wondrous chance.
To live in awe, to breathe, to be,
In Mary’s words, eternity.