Unesco classified Laurel wood

In Laurel Wood, where silence clings,

A thousand years take root and breathe.

Veils of mist drift through the branches,

Ghosts of rain and memory.

 

Your twisted limbs—old, unbowed—

Hold stories the winds have told,

Of cloud and sun, of seed and storm,

Of green returning every spring.

 

Here, beneath your moss-clad arms,

The world softens into wonder.

A tree, a mist, a quiet heart—

And all the ancient forest dreams.

Done