Whispers of the Night

Whispers of the Night The long dim shadows, Of surrounding trees, The hooting sound of an owl, With enchanting whispers of the breeze. A silver glow drapes the night, As moonbeams dance with tender light, The stars awake in velvet skies, Like scattered jewels in heaven’s eyes. The forest hums an ancient tune, Bathed beneath the watchful moon, Each leaf, each branch, begins to sway, As if in prayer till break of day. The river hums a gentle song, Its current pulling dreams along, Ripples glisten, soft and bright, A mirror carved of liquid light. Through winding paths the shadows creep, Guardians of the forest deep, Their silence speaks in sacred tone, Of mysteries time has never shown. The air grows thick with subtle lore, Of souls who walked these woods before, Their echoes linger, faint, unseen, Between the worlds of now and been. The night itself becomes a guide, With mystery flowing far and wide, Each step a question, soft, profound, Each breath a spell that wraps around. The owl calls out, a solemn plea, Its eyes reflect eternity, It warns, it guards, it speaks of