The Lost Compass

A leafy green tunnel, a sun-dappled track, Where squirrels chattered secrets and branches held back, A forest trail winding, a magical place, Where shadows danced softly with sunshine and grace.

Young Lily skipped lightly, with hair like spun gold, Her compass, a treasure, a story untold. But *oops!* from her pocket, with barely a sound, It bounced on the moss, and was nowhere around!

"Oh dear!" cried young Lily, her brow in a crease, "My compass is lost! What a terrible piece Of rotten bad luck! How will I ever, Find my way home, clever, clever, clever?"

A gentle snort answered, a rustle of leaves, A deer with brown eyes, through the branches it weaves. Its antlers, like branches, with velvet so deep, "Perhaps," thought young Lily, "a secret to keep!"

The deer dipped its head, towards a bush overgrown, Where ferns curled like fingers, on soil cool as stone. It nudged with its nose, a glint in the shade, The compass! It sparkled, no longer afraid.

With a giggle of thanks, and a pat on its head, Lily picked up the compass, the fear now all shed. The needle spun wildly, then settled down true, Pointing onward, adventures just waiting for you!

She followed the deer, through the whispering wood, Each rustle and chirp, understood as it should. The path grew much clearer, the trees started to thin, And soon, through the branches, her cottage peeked in!

With a wave to the deer, standing silent and tall, Lily ran to her porch, answering her mother's loud call. The forest held secrets, the compass now found, And Lily knew magic, abounded all around!