At times I notice a forest
Farther to the side, than most
My friends would dare to walk.
The pillars of emerald, the
Stalks of blue, the granted
Knowledge of another place.

The forest is lazy with
Magic and odious with old
Things people didn't chose to
Forget, even if their fathers did.

A little down the road I see a
A gleaming box of mercury filled
With gem-like fish that coruscate
And whisper all amongst themselves.

A little down the road, at the
Small point where trees draw near,
There sometimes is a post of
Streaked, and ghostly wood where
Doorway-eyed and knee high
Velvet creatures stir.

At times I notice a forest
As every other, though
Thicker than most with
Old beyond the ages trees.