These Woods (Poem)

Let’s pick our way through nettles
And romp among the brooks
Singing and sliding down muddy hills
These woods are made for adventure.

Let’s hide in the roots of the tallest trees
and shout and laugh and play
Resting and racing through falling leaves
These woods hold hidden treasure.

You fly like Peter and I’ll be Wendy
in a mystical, magical land
Vines rise like masts and this log is a plank
These woods hold worlds of wonder

Advertisements