Ghosts here yonder be,
Seductive in the shadows,
A hallway with windows 93,
And floors that creak and rattle.
I will step so opportune,
Into the afternoon,
When the sun rests high,
And the winds will gently blow us by.
Allowing scent of flowers,
To fill the open air,
Nature and her powers,
Needlessly so rare.
The worlds a jungle, of monstrous trees,
Leaves dangling in the calm reprieve,
Spiders crawl, birds they sip,
On waters of a sinful tip.
The path here lost, to green and growth,
The stranger step it costs, directions loathed.
A maze of forest, tall as towers,
The bark is brown, and thick.
Growing at the base the flowers,
Beautiful and quick.
The colors they will hypnotize,
Fortune to the poor,
The bloom it grows and symbolizes,
Lightning in a storm.
This is where I’ll wander, no chosen taken path,
Forever here and yonder, what step will be the last.
Until I fall and falter, and beg to here be found.
Inside this dense green jungle,
Where nothing makes a sound.
And the only sense upon the earth,
Is the world will still go round.