The Little Deer in the Whispering Woods

In the hush of dawn’s embrace,

Where sunlight paints the forest’s face,

A little deer with eyes so wide,

Stepped from the trees, without a guide.

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Its hooves were light, its breath was slow,

Its fur as soft as winter’s snow.

It paused to drink from silver streams,

A fragile spark in nature’s dreams.

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The forest spoke in gentle tune,

Of rustling leaves and fading moon.

Birds sang low, the wind stood still,

As if the world obeyed its will.

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Yet in its gaze, I saw a plea,

A fragile hope for life to be free.

So small, so pure, yet bound by fear,

A fleeting soul, this little deer.

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I watched it run through morning light,

A streak of grace, a fleeting sight.

And in that moment, I understood,

The silent heart of every wood.

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For life is brief, yet softly dear,

A lesson from the little deer.

It taught me love without a word,

A voice in nature, always heard.

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Would you listen if the forest spoke?

Would you protect the hearts it woke?

Thanks For Reading 💜💜💜