Walk Through The Woods

There's a fearless wonder about her face

as she gazes steadily around this place.

With an air of mystery running through,

she searches thoroughly about this view.


The graceful trickle of water slips

down slender banks of muddy strips.

The faintest whisper of childish glee

keeps her in chilling company.


Vivid colours assault her stare,

unprepared for their returning glare;

Emerald, fuchsia, bronze, amber

invite her seductively as she clambers


through thickets of quick thorns

as elegant wind scorns

her lack of tidy grace,

her slow, scrambling pace.


Her path continues further on,

no end in sight, the finale gone

as the mist descends to the ground

no hope for help to be found.


Trudging on is the only way

to make it through this slow decay

of wonder and light, a sallow grey

marring future colours from display.


But as she walks it becomes clear

that things will focus upon drawing near.

It just takes time to clear the mist,

a walk not a sprint – to just exist.