Whispers of the Ancient Forest

Branches twist like broken arms. Moonlight's caught in nature's charms. Shadows stretch but

never fade. This forest hums a ghostly parade. Whispers creep, they curl,

they climb. Fingers trace the cracks of time. Whispering pines, they call my

name. Lost in a dream, it's all the same.

Step by step, the air turns cold. The trees are young.

But the roots are old. Footprints vanish in the dirt. The wind is

laughing, sharp and curt. Eyes that glimmer in the haze. A labyrinth of

endless maze. Heartbeat slows, the ground might speak. Answers hide where