Whispers among the Shadows

In the heart of the darkened wood,

where shadows dance and silence stood.

A canopy of whispers, a haunting hood,

the mystic tales of the ancient brood.

Through twisted branches, moonlight weaves,

a tapestry of secrets, the forest conceives.

In the depth of night, where the darkness cleaves,

my thoughts wander, like wayward leaves.

A symphony of rustling leaves,

my mind, a forest where solitude grieves.

Echoes of thoughts, like ghostly thieves,

stealing through the labyrinth my mind perceives.

Beneath the boughs, where secrets dwell,

my contemplations, a cryptic spell.

A dance of shadows, where musings swell,

in the dark forest, my soul's citadel.

Among the pines, where silence hums,

my introspections, like ancient drums.

In the heart of the woods, where darkness becomes

a canvas for thoughts, like inked sums.

The nightingale's song, a melancholy hymn,

my mind a forest, where shadows dim.

In the obsidian embrace, where dreams may swim,

my thoughts, like whispers, softly skim.

So, in the dark forest, where mysteries breed,

my thoughts entwine like a moonlit seed.

A symphony of silence, a profound deed,

in the solitude of the woods, my soul takes heed.