Through rustling leaves, the stories weave,
In the quiet shade where shadows breathe.
With every step on the wooden bridge,
I follow whispers, edge of a ridge.
Beneath the sky, as sunlight spills,
To the silent hill, my heart fulfills.
Fading footsteps trace the path we made,
In the open field where our dreams once played.
The shimmering creek sings a gentle tune,
As memories dance beneath the silver moon.
With a weary heart, I glance behind,
Holding on to every tie that binds.
Yet time will pass like a fleeting wisp,
In the cool night air, I wait for a glimpse.
Of laughter shared, in wildflower bloom,
And the scent of hope that chases the gloom.
So here I stand, with the world so wide,
On this wooden bridge, I can't run and hide.
Each rustling leaf tells a tale of old,
Of love and loss, of the brave and bold.
With every echo, I'm drawn once more,
To the open field and the memories we wore.
And though I wander, I know I belong,
To the whispered dreams, where my heart is strong.
As the stars awaken and shadows recede,
I find my peace in each whispered need.
With the night as my blanket, I finally see,
The journey was love, and love sets me free.
Folk
Rustling leaves, Wooden bridge, Silent hill, Fading footsteps, Open field, Shimmering creek, Weary heart
Folk
Rustling leaves, Wooden bridge, Silent hill, Fading footsteps, Open field, Shimmering creek, Weary heart