Forest Thoughts

November 9, 2017
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Everywhere there are crinkled leaves, moved only by the wind,
Unaffected by a lone soul wandering.

Sailing leaves phase through
Molding shivers out of sagging shoulders.
The tired heart imagines the pleasure
Of resting on a swirled, moss-covered stump,
Juxtaposed to a fallen tree,
Taken down by a sailing wind.

When nothing is moving,
Besides lost legs,
Only birds can be heard
Lamenting the pitiful plight of the lone soul.






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