Whispers of the Woods

Myths in the mist, where the moonlight split,

Ancient whispers linger, they refuse to quit.

Tales older than the oak, roots deep in the dirt,

Folklore lives eternal, wrapped in the Earth.

Shadow puppets dance when the stars take stage,

Legends carved in the bark, flipping that page.

Echoes through valleys, where the spirits stay,

The words of the past lighting up today.

Spinning yarns colder than a winter spell,

Truth or fiction, only that hearth could tell.

Bones in brambles, secrets line the vines,

Stories weave the fabric, stitching through time.

Creak of the floorboards, ghost in the frame,

Every name they whisper still stokes the flame.

Wolves howl the hymns of forgotten tribes,

Every chill in your spine speaks where it resides.

Shadow puppets dance when the stars take stage,

Legends carved in the bark, flipping that page.

Echoes through valleys, where the spirits stay,

The words of the past lighting up today.

Fables cradle the skies, constellations glow,

Riddles in the rivers, currents whisper low.

While mortals fade, their tales ignite,

Folk-tales in the marrow, alive every night.