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In the forest of my soul, a child resides,
with laughter dancing in the golden breeze,
disguised fears that the sun decides,
weaving their enchanted essence of dreams.
Beneath ancient branches of lost tales
the elves whisper secrets of stars,
their eyes sparkle, mischievous, dear,
and the wind carries them along more beautiful routes.
Rainbows are born after every storm,
their colours are dreams glowing with longing,
the heart beats, hope is felt,
and in every sparkle, the soul finds flight.
Today at last I discovered a hidden chest,
Dust of memories, engraved letters,
stories of yesteryear, lost treasures,
that open the door to dreamed days.