In the heart of the dusk, where the shadows meander,
The forest breathes softly, a tale to withstand her.
Whispers of the ancients dance lightly on the breeze,
Carrying the secrets through the tall, swaying trees.
Gentle is the night as the stars start to twinkle,
A tapestry woven with moments we can mingle.
Fingers tracing the path where the moonlight does play,
A guiding light in the dark, leading worries away.
Hope is a flicker, like a candle's soft flame,
It beckons from the silence, calling out our names.
When the world feels heavy and the road seems untamed,
In the depths of the forest, our spirits can be claimed.
Let the whispers surround us, as we wander along,
In this sacred space bathed in twilight's sweet song.
Every step is a promise, every breath is a dream,
Through the laughter and the heartache, we’re more than we seem.
So take hold of the moment, let it spirit you high,
For in the rustling leaves, we can learn how to fly.
With the night as our blanket and the stars as our guide,
We’ll find strength in the silence, together we'll bide.
As daylight will come, and its warmth will embrace,
The whispers of the forest will stay in their place.
Though the dusk must disperse, in our hearts hope will thrive,
For this gentle reminder keeps our dreams alive.
Folk
forest, whispers, dusk, gentle, hope