In a corner of the world, so snug and small,
Young Aria stood with canvas, dreams enthralled.
Her brushes, colors, and imagination’s call,
To paint a tale that from her heart would sprawl.
The ancient forest, secrets it would confide,
With trees like dancers in the moonlight’s tide.
A silver glow, from the heavens did it slide,
Embrace the earth, in its gentle arms, beside.
Her brush, a wand, dipped in colors so profound,
The moonlit forest danced, with whispers bound.
Shadows swirled, as nature’s stories unwound,
Of courage and wonder, in colors she found.
Her fingers waltzed, much like leaves in the breeze,
Invisible strokes, painted worlds at ease.
Colors converged, a grand symphony to appease,
Old friends holding hands, in harmony, they’d seize.
Her feet, they floated, above the earthly ground,
On the canvas of dreams, her steps would resound.
Footprints of starlight, in the night, they were found,
Tales of the forest, in each one, were tightly wound.
The trees spoke wisdom, their voices soft and true,
Leaves giggled secrets, their laughter like morning dew.
The forest, her muse, in whispers, it drew,
Guided her hand, as art and nature anew.
As dawn’s first light awakened the world from its dreams,
Aria gazed upon her canvas, it seemed,
A window to enchantment, where reality gleams,
The ancient forest’s magic, in her art, streams.
She may be but a child, in artistry’s grand scheme,
Yet the Nadhiyah Grove and Neshamalai, it would seem,
Are not mere stories, in her heart, they beam,
With imagination and brushes, their ancient tale she’d redeem.
Holistic Coach ShanaAll rights reserved
