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.