Wednesday, September 3, 2014

The Wood Between by Sara Menold

Golden flecks of sunlight tumbling through emerald
The smell of earth, of trees
Living, breathing, growing.
The river nearby,
Cool water gently combing its fingers through her hair.
Above the laughing, bubbling stream,
The wind caresses the leaves
Whispering its secrets to any who will hear
Inviting the wanderer to lose herself
In memory and dreams.
Stay awhile
Let your eyelids fall
Slowly down,
Sweet surrender
And then the gently mocking whisper:
Pretty maid, be mine,

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