Along a lane with trees of gold
down a path
of the thousand secrets hey hold.
The lane of dirt goes past where I can see,
winding away to be
hidden by the leaves of trees.
What things have happened here
in this forest so old?
What things lurk, what should I fear?
What lies beyond the brown, orange, and green?
What secrets lie
just out from where they can be seen?
A pretty avenue in a pretty golden wood,
looks can be deceiving,
and intentions misunderstood.
YOU ARE READING
Stories and Poems
General FictionA collection of short stories and poems, maybe a script here or there.
