Whispering Leaves

Beneath the canopy of time, a soul sits still, A guardian of whispers, a silent sentinel. Leaves entwine in a dance of memory and grace, Each petal a story, each shadow a trace. The bench, a witness to countless tales untold, Holds the weight of dreams and the burden of gold. The dog, not just a figure, but a symbol of trust, Its gaze a mirror, reflecting the vast. In its fur, the forest breathes, a living tapestry, A testament to nature's eternal mystery. Its eyes, windows to worlds unseen, hold the key To the heart of the wild, where freedom does play. Here, in this moment, the viewer finds their own, A reflection of hope, a mirror of the known. The leaves, a language of life, speak to the soul, A reminder that beauty is found in the whole. So sit, and listen, to the leaves that sing, For in their embrace, the world begins to bring A harmony of peace, a symphony of grace, In the quiet of the leaves, the heart finds its place.