In the heart where wildflowers sway,
Where whispered tales of lovers lay,
A hollow oak stands strong and wise,
Beneath the canvas of open skies.
In the early light, when the world feels new,
Morning frost glistens, cloaked in dew,
The sparrow’s flight dances through the air,
With songs of joy, a melody rare.
Rustling leaves tell secrets of the past,
Promises of summer, shadows that last,
Each petal opens, a fragile embrace,
In the gentle warmth of nature's grace.
So let us walk through fields of gold,
Chasing dreams that never grow old,
With every step, a story unfolds,
In the whispered tales that love still holds.
The sun dips low, the day must fade,
Yet in this moment, all fears evade,
For in this meadow, where memories bloom,
We find our solace, our hearts resume.
So hold my hand as the night draws near,
With a spark of hope, let's scorn the fear,
In the hush of dusk, our spirits soar,
For in this meadow, we are forevermore.
Folk
Meadow bloom, whispered tales, hollow oak, morning frost, sparrow’s flight