If you want to find me,
I'll be in the woods this morning.
I stretch,
I turn,
I walk.
I feel the crunch of the leaves on the ground,
The sting of the morning breeze.
In the distance I hear a bird,
Close by I see a squirrel.
I can smell the dampness in the air,
I can feel the goosebumps on my skin.
In the afternoon,
You'll still find me in the woods.
This time I jump,
I climb,
I run.
I feel the roughness of trees,
The heat of the sun on my skin.
In the distance I can hear a creek,
Close by I feel the dew still on the grass.
I can hear the creatures moving around,
I can feel the heats ting on my skin.
Once evening comes,
I will still be in the woods,
But this time I lay down,
I nap,
I stroll.
I feel the night breeze coming in,
The darkness settling in.
In the distance I hear the ruffle of leaves,
Close by I also hear the ruffle of leaves.
I can see the creatures settling down for the night,
I can feel the cold airs sting on my skin.
When night time comes in,
I will be heading back home.
Tomorrow I will be back,
Tomorrow I will feel,
Tomorrow I will hear,
Tomorrow I will see.
YOU ARE READING
Ticking
PoetryThe struggle is real - My attempts at poetry. Why the title? Life's a ticking clock, and it only stops once, when your time is up. Between that period, from when it starts till stops, you have the opportunity to make something of yourself. Be amazi...
