Remember the failed attempt at writing that book I told you about? This was a part of it.

There is this land of another time
Where birds and bells in harmony chime.
Lush grass of royal gren.
Higher trees than ever seen.
Never a kinder day was found,
But at night things turned around.
Trees drooped down as if to crush,
The blanket of a sinister hush.
Rocks which in day gave the weary rest,
Unwelcoming with jagged crests.
It wasn't just the time for the bird of prey,
Every sparrow and fledgling simply turned its way.
The playful twitter turned into a shriek,
The bubbling brook into a gnarled creek.
It was as if the hours had set,
During the day the good would dwell,
But at night don't venture around
As all dark is set unbound
And I don't talk of hunters alone.
Despite the brightest moon which shone,
(Infact, I am sure you'd rather not see
Whatever is out to play with thee)
So hear the woods sing their song
To bring back the long gone.
Maybe they will one day return
And give the day a better turn.

It's okay. I wrote it long back, you know. It sounds kinda lame now :).