Poetry / archive
Of Enchanted Woods and Singing Streams
Upon the slopes of the mountains high,
As the shadow of giants draws nigh,
Lies a forest filled with dreams,
With golden light and silver streams.
With mossy carpets springy and soft
And trees with flags of lichen held aloft.
Pearly petals carpet mossy halls,
Silver streams wend their way to tinkling falls.
Water from the mountains, clear and icy cold,
Sings in the forests as the spell takes hold.
Upon the slopes of the mountains high,
As the shadow of giants draws nigh,
Lies an enchanted wood where time stands still,
Where, with wonder, I let my soul fill.
Sunbeams gleam through a leafy bower,
Blazes of color erupting wherever they hover.
Fairy dust sparkles in the sunlit breeze,
As silence reigns in the heights of the trees.
The only sound is the song of the streams,
In the magic woods born of elven dreams.