There is a tale I would like to tell about a time in spring.

About a time when the jungle was in its prime.

With monkeys swinging from vine to vine

And you start to drift away to a world of imagination.

With all kind of fruits you could dream of, bananas, peaches and mangos too. 

Then you start to feel the mystical fog breezing past your legs

And you start to think to yourself, is this all a dream?

The smell of the welcoming breeze is almost a poisonous sight to see.

When you start to walk, the feel of the bushes brushing on your arms

Feel like knives scraping along.

As you go in further, it starts to feel strange,

Like something is missing, like you want to be part of it all.

You feel like you could get lost in it forever,

And you can't get away from the beauty and the mysterious 

Secrets of this forest.