At night, in the heat of thesummer, when my loneliness
aches from every pore,
I dream of the woods.
The deep dark forest
calls to my very core,
writing cryptic stories
on my chest.
The mist shrouds the
black trees and I long
to be one with them,
I wish to never leave.
The sun is no friend here,
there is no way to show.
Only darkness is welcome,
only mystery remains.
Nothing sweet may stay.
Wondering of the beasts
that dwell in that darkness,
I keep a watchful eye.
Not that they wouldn't be
welcome, this grove is our
home.
We share this place, all of us poor
lost creatures. We thrive on the
unknown and live with the
stones we've thrown.
Wandering is inevitable;
we are wandering souls.
I dream of the woods,
at night in the summer's
heat, when my loneliness
aches from every pore.
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