There's a dream making roots
in body, heart and mind.
Beguiling whisper,
just a thing,
hearing souls
forget their homes.
They know where to go,
know how to get there.
No bad no good
planted in and on their heads;
they dance on the words:
"think of rustle of leaves,
fluttering pollen in the wind,
acorns hidden where you won't know".
There's a clearing,
resinous trees overtaken,
every comer lays,
eyes shut, mind alive.
Forevermore They can stay,
unless one of the dears takes them away.
YOU ARE READING
He was walking in a forest
Poesiaa collections of poems, about nature, calmness and tranquillity. This is a collection of poems about wanting to travel the world, finding your safe space embedded by boundless nature but also about finding the truth about yourself and kind but tragi...
