The mythical woodlands of folktales of yore, locked behind a hidden door, out of sight and out of mind, a relic of more ancient times.
Yet there are ways to reach this enchanted realm, concealed gateways amidst neglected glades. But I know how to break the spell and reach beyond the thin cut veil.
The fae and the fancy, the whim of the wisps, the sprites they prance and sing. Wandering beneath the boughs of gold during the eternal spring.
Stories of glory - of good, bad, and evil, heroes who triumph, and villains full of pride, not only present children's minds. They plucked them from somewhere oh so real.
Princes and Princesses, treachery, and deceit. All folk from the woods you could well meet.
All these stories play out under our noses, too wrapped up in the rush of modern life. We've become blinded, chalking these tales up to myth, if only you knew how withe this place is.
The best times of my life were spent there, in that place so far away, the things I've seen, the things I've done, you just couldn't believe it... alas, that songs now sung...
The mythical woodlands of folktale of yore, locked behind, a hidden door out of sight and out of mind, a relic of more ancient times...