THE POEM SERIES: THE SEVENTH VERSE.

A WALK IN THE WOODS
The ominous silence greets me
Betrayed by my journey to the West,
My little red riding hood
Drapes dangerously low across my back,
Marking a path never before trodden,
As the sirens keep calling for my weary soul.
Alas, forgive my transgressions, dear Mr Wolf
Least I bond with the woods
Never to be seen again.

Stung with cold in the shelter of settling darkness,
I am scarred by the thongs of unforgiving branches,
Bruised and smeared
Like fireworks drenched in the rain,
The beauty of this pain is known
To none but me
On this lonely spring-like night.

Still I trudge through the woods
With a darkened sky,
As the golden rays have turned their back
On my wretched plight,
I have no choice but to walk this dreaded path.

May moon give me comfort,
And the stars light my path.
But let’s end this story on a cheerful note,
Least we remember the horrors of the day,
I never returned
From the forest path.

Credits
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