Woodland Glade

In the woodland glade, time stands still. A Summer breeze whispers through the trees, leaves rustling like voices of the woodland sprites. Gentle rays of sunlight penetrate the canopy, like strands of a maiden's soft golden hair. In the woodland glade, bluebells abound, attracting lazy bumblebees and butterflies. A little girl humming to herself, carefree. Carefree as only an innocent child can be, without yet being touched by cold reality. In the woodland glade, dreams may come to life, limited only by imagination, tales and stories become real. In the gentle warmth of the sun, the world seems to sleep. The girl lies on the mossy ground, gazing up at the weightless clouds, drifting with the wind. In the woodland glade, things stay the same, though years pass and the world outside grows. A young woman wanders through the woods. Her golden hair flowing in the wind, her fair skin feeling the warmth of the Sun. In the woodland glade, she stops, Among the bluebells in a timeless place. A single tear, a perfect drop, runs down her cheek. Her heart aches for times gone by, sweet innocence that will never again be felt. Innocence, stolen by a cold uncaring world. In the woodland glade, she remembers. In the woodland glade, she weeps.//