In the morning fog, I hear a tune,
A wooden flute playing soft as a moon,
Nature's song drifts on the breeze,
Carrying the secrets of the swaying trees.
Wild roses bloom in the golden light,
Their fragrance dances, a beautiful sight,
With petals that whisper of earth dreams,
Woven to life in the mountain streams.
The valley holds stories in each gentle sigh,
Where the sun breaks free in the azure sky,
I wander through shadows where the echoes play,
Feeling the pulse of the land day by day.
As mountain rain kisses the thirsty ground,
Every drop tells tales of the lost and found,
In the shimmer of leaves, in the calm after strife,
I find my solace, a reason for life.
So let the winds carry these notes away,
To the hearts that are searching, to those gone astray,
May we gather the blessings of the earth so sweet,
In the whispers of the valley, our spirits will meet.
And as the sun sets, painting the trail,
We carry the music, the love will prevail,
In every heartbeat, in each gentle part,
We'll cherish forever the whispers of the valley heart.
Folk
Wooden flute, Nature's song, Valley heart, Morning fog, Wild roses, Earth dreams, Mountain rain