by Shelly Wiseberg 

The secret door was hidden,
by weeping willows.

A magical garden of ponds and meadows,
surrounded by tall green grass
with cobble stoned paths,
and deep blue sky.

The forest lush with sound,
speaking in fairy tale song.

Scented flowers perfumed in honey,
melting away in the sun rays,
of sweetness.

A cozy little hideaway deep within,
the woods of imagination.

Special places where dreams
come alive in your mind,
and wishes come true
if you believe.