In the early light, the forest stirsA place of magic, where dreams occurEnchanted trees, with limbs so wideTheir shadows dance, in the morning tide
The air is still, with whispered songAs creatures wake, and play alongThe mossy floor, beneath our feetA carpet soft, a sight so sweet
The sun begins to warm the airThe forest blooms, without a careAnd as he leaves, with heart awokeHe’ll remember well, these woods of oak...