Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Thoughts of a Forest

All rests
When dawn approaches.
The mist dissapates,
No longer needed
To hide what was once there.
Empty branches
Relax to a more comfortable position,
Recovering from
A night of battle.
Reaching and grabbing
The nightmares of
Small children,
Come to life.
The great oaks
Stand guard
Over their forest.

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