Beneath the canopy where shadows play,
The ancient trees stand tall and wise,
Their branches whisper secrets of the day,
And cradle dreams beneath the skies.

Their roots dig deep into the earth,
A testament to time and grace,
They speak of life, of death, of birth,
In every leaf, a hidden trace.

The wind may howl, the storm may rage,
Yet steadfast stand these silent guides,
In every ring, a story’s page,
Of seasons passed and changing tides.

Come sit beneath their emerald shade,
And listen to their ancient song,
For in their arms, memories are laid,
Eternal, strong, where we belong.