In the heart of the ancient wood,
Where sunlight softly spills,
The trees stand tall in solitude,
Guardians of the hills.
Their whispers ride the gentle breeze,
A lullaby of time,
Stories of centuries, and secrets,
In a language so sublime.
Leaves flutter like emerald waves,
Dancing in the golden light,
Roots delving deep in the earth,
Anchoring them with might.
In every rustle, in every sigh,
A tale of life unfolds,
The trees, with wisdom of ages,
A silent story told.