Heart of the Woods

There is a place in the heart of the woods

Looks like a meadow in the light

There the flowers slowly bloom

Preparing to fight the dark of night

Look, here comes along the light of the moon

With its silver it makes the flowers glow

Together they beat the blackness soon

It’s a story the children will want to know

So you see how all is well

It’s been a victory for the good

A war raged on and the forces fell

Of night in the heart of the woods

Escape? Perhaps.

I feel like I am trapped in a place which lives, eats and breathes poetry, especially Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening. Here, sometimes the thought of free falling also comes to my mind. Falling without regard to consequences. Just falling. Anywhere, somewhere.. Where there is only verse and song. Wait. Trapped would not be a good word to use here because I like this place. A lot.

Escape? Perhaps.