Sylvan Woods

Deep in the heart of the ancient woods,
Where the shadows are dark and true,
Lies a grove as old as time, itself:
A portrait of when things were new.

In the center of the grove, there lies a pool
Surrounded by grass and stone;
And many a dryad has spent time here
Dreaming of things unknown.

The moss on the trees is thick and green,
A promise of life abounds.
The air is filled with sweet-smelling scents
And rings with the purest of sounds.

On the bank of the pool, a large rock sits
In a depression that acts like a cup,
Where it's said Father Time stood and paused
For a moment; 'fore he started the whole thing up.

To look in the grove fills a creature with peace
And here war is word nothing knows.
But to find your way there takes more than a search:
For it's found in a place no one goes.

In the legends, they say, one will find it again
When mankind has learned to be true.
But when we swear true love to the one we adore;
In that perfect moment, we glimpse a brief view.