In the heart of the woods, where the stars gently gleam,
Lies a hollow of secrets, like a sweet forest dream.
Hidden by ferns and a mossy green dome,
Live guitar-playing gnomes in their magical home.
Their guitars are of birchwood, with strings made of gold,
Crafted by moonlight, enchanting and bold.
Each night they would gather, beneath the tall trees,
And strum gentle tunes carried far by the breeze.
One gnome, named Jingle, with a hat ruby red,
Had a song in his heart that he longed to be spread.
“Let’s teach the forest folk to sing and to play,
So their hearts may feel light at the end of the day.”
The animals gathered, from big bears to small mice,
Each eager to learn and to hear something nice.
The gnomes taught the melodies, each note a delight,
And soon the whole forest could sing through the night.
A squirrel named Nutmeg played the tambourine,
While a fox with sharp ears hummed tunes serene.
Even the owls, with their hoots and their calls,
Added sweet harmony that echoed through halls.
But one shy little bunny, with fur soft and white,
Watched from the shadows, avoiding the light.
“I’m too small,” said the bunny, “my voice far too thin,
I’ll never be able to join in the din.”
Jingle approached with a kind-hearted grin,
“Your voice, little bunny, is where we begin.
Music’s not perfect; it’s feeling and fun,
It’s a gift for us all, from the moon and the sun.”
With courage, the bunny hopped into the glow,
And sang the first note, timid and low.
But soon it grew louder, then sweet and sincere,
A melody pure that brought every ear near.
Now the hollow’s alive with songs every night,
From critters and gnomes in the soft starlight.
And deep in the woods, where the forest folk roam,
They’ll tell of the gnomes in their magical home.
So if you’re ever in woods where the stars gently gleam,
Listen for music like a sweet forest dream.
And follow the tune, through the mossy green dome,
To the guitar-playing gnomes in their magical home.
Sweet dreams, little one.