Sun Rises Over The Valley

In the quiet of dawn, when the world still dreams,
The sun ascends, casting golden beams.
O'er the rolling hills, where the river winds,
A tale unfolds, whispered by ancient pines.

The sun rises over the valley, a promise of hope,
Painting the sky with hues of amber and rose.
The mist lifts, revealing secrets untold,
In this mystical land, where legends unfold.

Dew-kissed meadows, where wildflowers sway,
The spirits dance, at the break of day.
Stone circles stand, guardians of old,
Their whispers echo, through valleys and wolds.

The sun rises over the valley, a promise of hope,
Painting the sky with hues of amber and rose.
The mist lifts, revealing secrets untold,
In this mystical land, where legends unfold.

Lone pipers play, haunting melodies,
Their notes weave, through ancient trees.
Faeries flit, in the first light's embrace,
Guiding lost souls, to a hidden place.

The sun rises over the valley, a promise of hope,
Painting the sky with hues of amber and rose.
The mist lifts, revealing secrets untold,
In this mystical land, where legends unfold.

As day awakens, and shadows flee,
The valley breathes, with a timeless glee.
In this Celtic tapestry, woven with grace,
The sun rises, and magic finds its place.
