The Enchanted Forest
The forest looked weird and gloomy,
by Edith Garcia
Beneath the dark sky and eerie moon;
And the trees swayed rhythmically to and fro,
To the flautist's haunting tune.
The flautist sat on the forest's ferny floor,
Like a strange shaped silhouette;
And the notes that he played so melodiously,
Were the sweetest that I've heard yet.
Then a figure emerged from the shadows,
It was a woodland sprite;
And she began to sing and dance to the music,
In her flowing gown of white.
The sprites singing was exquisite,
The sound of the flute divine;
And they blended precisely together,
In perfect harmony and time.
Then the forest was plunged into darkness,
The dismal moon no longer shone;
And there was only the rustling of the trees,
Because the flautist and sprite had gone.