DeviantCameraman

The trees are singing, A beautiful song, The branches are waving, The whispers are long, And deep in this forest, Far past the old pine, You can find me there, And you can be mine, If you come to my palace, And knock on my door, I'll tell you a story, As you sit on the floor, Of a land before troubles, Hatred or strife, A place which could hold, The essence of life.