A Forest for My Thoughts

I wandered into a place where silence sings,

a forest woven from soft whispers,

where every tree glowed with light

and reached deep down, hidden from my view.

Their branches arched like elegant cursive,

each leaf a thought nudged by the breeze—

some shining with joy, others tinged with doubt,

some quivering as they spun around.

The oldest oak held thick riddles,

its bark marked with truths waiting to be discovered,

while young dreams bent gently and fresh,

their veins still glistening with morning dew.

Beneath them flowed a mirrored stream

that smoothed the fraying edges of my thoughts,

where echoes gathered in liquid poetry

to drift through the seasons, slow as thyme.

The owls kept a watchful eye with their amber gaze—

my wisdom cloaked in feathers—

and fireflies hung their fleeting lights

between the branches like scribbled notes.

I kicked off my shoes to feel the earth,

letting words blossom where my feet wandered,

for every step opened a door

where no one had tread before.

Here, the pines played lullabies,

there, the willows sighed softly,

and just beyond the birch’s embrace,

a clearing cradled my name.

Oh guardian of the ink-stained grove,

where shadows dance with my creations,

help me grow tall where words take root—

I’ll be the sap, you be the reed.