Branches

In realms where shadows dance and light doth play, There lies a world half-hidden, veiled away. The branches twist like serpents in their slumber deep, While secrets lurk beyond their gnarled keep.

Behold! The tower, proud and tall, doth rise, Its silhouette 'gainst heavens' canvas lies. Yet branches weave a veil of black and white, To shroud its form in mystery's soft light.

A spire pierces through the skeletal lace, Of winter's touch upon the bare embrace. The sun, a beacon bright behind the boughs, Casts fleeting glimpses on the hidden house.

Each limb, each twig, a brushstroke bold and free, Paints tales of time where nature's art doth be. O mortal, gaze with eyes both keen and wise, For in these branches, truth and dream entwine—be prize

The world beyond is but a fleeting sight, A glimpse through veils of dark and silvered light. Yet still it calls, this dance of form and shade, Where every shadow whispers, "Come, be swayed."