In Woods

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic


For once I'm not really trying to rhyme.

Submitted: October 05, 2017

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Submitted: October 05, 2017

A A A

A A A


In Woods

 

Silently, I make my way,

I know just where to place my feet.

Every step I take,

planned,

perfected;

I’m going to make it outside

without being detected.

 

I’ll grab a coat,

not mine,

who cares.

It’s large and warm,

engulfing,

enfolding,

the hood is so big

my tears are not showing.

 

Close the door gently,

don’t make I sound,

I know where I’m heading,

don’t want to be found.

Stealthy,

silent,

I’ll be like a fox

and make my way out of this

hell of a box.

 

Along the pathway,

into the woods,

the sky is so cloudy,

pitch black as coal.

Past oak,

ash,

elm,

I’ll go.

I don’t need to see,

where I’m going I know

 

Deep in the woods there’s a massive great tree,

ageless,

majestic,

it’s calling to me.

For there at it’s base,

I’ll find a soft bed,

of mosses,

of leaves,

I’ll fall to my knees

and I’ll lay down my head.

 

I’ll breathe in the rot,

the mouldering leaves,

the earth

with all of the things it conceives.

The beetles come crawling,

along with the worms;

the spiders,

the maggots,

the flies of the night.

 

Let them devour me,

just leave me be,

let me become covered,

and hidden

away.

I’ll stay in the soil

while my life

fades

away.


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