The edge of the wood
Is where we dwell.
Beyond the reaches
Of a thicketed hell.
The looming tall trees
Tower over us all
Like phantom figures
Foretelling our fall.
Veiled in a thick mist,
Shrouded mystery,
The forest is full
Of haunted history.
Looming over us
As shadows from hell,
The forest becomes
Our abode to dwell.
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Author:
Tristan Robert Lange (
Offline) - Published: March 22nd, 2017 09:33
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
Offline)
Comments2
This is a beautiful write, I am within the trees.
Thank you! Much appreciated!
Despite their calmness and their beauty i often find forests can be a bit sinistet. This poem, for me, captures both these aspects. Well done
Thank you! Much appreciated!!!
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