Forests

Tall trees stretching upwards as if reaching for the sky,
Growing ever taller as the centuries go by,
Their leaves and branches spreading so they shut out all the sun;
No point in seeking sunshine on the ground for there is none;
The plants and bushes growing there are those especially made
For life devoid of sunlight, living always in the shade.
Little streams traverse the ground, exposing roots of trees,
Which are always gnarled and bent when they're as old as these.
Dense forests can be gloomy, and as such are often prone
To have an air of mystery and a life that's all their own.