Beneath the canopy of the ancient trees,
Her whispers echo through the rustling leaves.
In the gentle caress of the morning breeze,
Her heart, a tapestry of dreams, weaves.

Oceans vast with stories untold,
Waves that dance with the moon’s gentle call.
In her depths, mysteries unfold,
A cradle of life, nurturing all.

Mountains stand with timeless grace,
Guardians of her sacred land.
In their silence, her song finds its place,
A symphony crafted by nature’s hand.

Through seasons that paint her in hues anew,
Her eternal cycle, a dance of rebirth.
In every raindrop, every morning dew,
She sings the song of Mother Earth.