SpiritOwl

The Forest My Mother, dear, she held me close and whispered twice the warning: 'The forest, hear, is with horrors churning.' But in my youth I disobeyed, without at all intending for in that curling wood a childish kite had flown without my knowing Seeing that brilliant sheen of red upon a twisted branch was all my sweet heart needed to take foot onto the path; Though the hour - darkening - I promised to be back: 'it is not far nor tall that tree,' I plead upon embarking in dusky light I cast my eyes upon the wretched trunk A tree so faint and waifish I knew not if it would hold but up I heaved through its trembling limbs, intent that I sho