Whimsical Woods

Footprints they said would lead somewhere, to anywhere, perhaps. I walk forward, gazing into the canopy where sun dapples leave me curious, ever curious about the shapes shifting behind closed eyes. Trees whisper as they sway, my thoughts mingling with their age-old whispers until words become the wind, fleeting and unfathomable.

Inhaling the scent of dreams mixed with dew, I remember moments not mine, stories tangled within the branches like forgotten webs, ephemeral threads spun by a restless night. A brook babbles, echoing the sound of laughter, a tune lost in time, yet familiar enough to coax a smile from my wandering soul.

Somewhere, not far but distant in an old sense, I heard an echo of what could have been, a toll of a bell that never rang, marking hours that ceased to matter. My feet tread paths unseen, guided by the pull of the moon even in daylight—a magnetic whisper from the heart of the woods.