...yours to tell.


The woods were lovely, dark and deep;
I brought along my map to keep
Me oriented to the trail,
Although it was to no avail;
I followed every turn and twist
For miles, but then could not resist
The shadowed path that beckoned me
To find whatever I might see
Among the fern and mossy stone
Where many passed, but few had gone;
I pondered, then I turned aside
To find what beauty might abide
Hid away across the stream
That laughed like children in a dream,
And so I went, quiet and slow,
To see what secret I could know,
And if you find me in that place,
Should Mother Nature leave a trace
Among the laurel where I fell,
My story will be yours to tell.





Comments

  1. This is a wonderful piece, Henry. Truly one that I will read again and again. Thank ye.

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