Beneath the arch of ancient oaks, Where echoes of forgotten lore, Unfold in ripples on the brook, I dance where summer’s warmth once stored. The air is drunk with sunlight’s kiss, And shadows play in golden hue, Each step a prayer, a whispered wish, To the world that sings so true. In the labyrinth of wildflowers, I feel the threads of life entwine, Nature wraps her arms around, As each heart sings, each soul divine.

• Marina Tsvetaeva