In the twilight woods of silver bark and whispering roots,
I speak softly to the shadows that grow and recede—
like your heartbeat, entangled in the song of the pine
that holds ancient secrets encrypted within its rings.
Moonbeams caress verdant thoughts whispered through ragged leaves,
a language alive within sap and symphony that woos the night.
Pathways of starlight tread softly on heartwood bridges,
where messages carved in cicada chatter hum in tender tones.
The cool breath of the forest, laced with nocturnal sighs,
cradles dreams in layers of bark, softly peeling time away.
Let the silence blossom beneath silvered canopies,
blossoming as echoes in the secret letters of leaves.