Soul Forest
Poetry
There’s a lodge deep inside the forest, The timbre sings the song of yore, The broken panes tell the tales, Floor gathered moss galore.
The morning sun fights to reach, The lodge covered with tall greens, The chirpy soloist sits on the roof, When the moon begins to peep in.
The door opens to a garden Too slippery and unkempt Still the wilds rear their head Fence fragile, so mist drenched.
When the night sets in And cricket orchestra plays the lore of solitude, the forest deep, darkness engraved.
If you ever cross the forest lost in its dark and deep look for that lodge covered with moss, where the soloist sings.
Hear the tune the loner plays Touch the light however dim — You will find life to be Again, full to the brim.
