by Shivali H. Patra
Amidst the forest’s vast and tangled green,
I roam beneath the shadows and the light.
Ancient trees whisper, yet remain unseen,
And nature paints its canvas pure and bright.
Among the roots that anchor in the earth,
I tread the path where sunbeams gently play.
Air is thick with the scent of nature’s birth.
Was it thousands of years ago, or just yesterday?
Upon the hills, where blooms in breezes seek
In every creature’s soft and mournful call,
Where sunsets paint the closing of the peak,
A harmony always echoes through it all.
In forest’s deep, where ancient whispers walk,
Moonlight spills its silver as if to talk.