You'll find her in the woods where they used to play.
Doesn't matter the season, the year, or the day.
She spends her time softly singing while gathering flowers; or quietly sitting and listening, high up in the trees for hours.
Some folks say, she's lost her mind.
Others are much more kind.
It's just make believe,
a way for her to grieve.
In my younger years, I heard the words to her song.
I've climbed high up in the trees, tagging along.
And I too have heard the laughter of a child, carried on the breeze.
And I felt the child run past me, in the rustling of the leaves.
It's just make believe,
a way for her to grieve.
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Author:
Jane Frye (
Offline) - Published: June 2nd, 2018 13:22
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 23
Offline)
Comments4
Beautiful enchanting writing. I too looked at your previous work here and i find myself quite moved by your tender words. You truly have a gift with words.
Thank you. I read some of your poems today, and I have to tell you, I'm hooked. I intend to read more in the coming days, and hope you will add many more in the days to come.
Super write, the woods can tell us so many things, all you need to do is listen to nature.
Yes, the woods are aways enchanting. Thank you for your comments.
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