Woods

I want to go to the woods

In the spring during the day

Lay under the forest green ceilings

And be filtered by the sun’s rays

I want to lie down in the turf

Not a word, not a sound

Just to be still there

My life’s problems not around

 

I want to walk through the woods

During the winter, late at night

Maybe a companion, maybe not

Only on the horizon, there are lights

I want to place my hands on the cold brown bark

And watch my feet get swallowed by snow

There my woes I will park

I’ll be able to let go

 

I want to run through the woods

In the autumn during noon

Swirling amongst the red and orange leaves

No plans of entering the real world soon

I want to stand in the center

Of the ethereal canopy floor

No one, but I allow, may enter

Only a certain few can pass through my door

This poem is about: 
Me

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