ICE COLD FEAR

 

How did I come to be here?

Cold wrapped around me in fear.

No matter how far I walk.

I could hear them move and talk.

Muttering curses on me.

But faces I cannot see.

They surround me on each side.

There’s nowhere for me to hide.

I must get out of here soon.

Before the next full moon.

THE DEAD GAME

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ALONE WITH MY THOUGHTS

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Alison Scarpulla

 

 

Alone with my thoughts.

Lost in my dreams.

Darkness in my soul.

 

A deserted forest.

Empty of people.

Devoid of sound.

 

No movement.

No sunlight.

Only endless trees.

 

My thoughts ring

Loud and clear

In this empty void.

SLEEP FOR THE WEARY

 

 

SLEEP FOR THE WEARY

 

The sun peeks through

a canopy of trees.

A blanket of color

protects me with leaves.

I’m sheltered with

soft petals of pink.

Like velvet sheets

splattered with ink.

A bed in the petals

offers rest for the weary.

I give a sigh of contentment

as my eyes grow teary.

THE PATH

THE GREEN

 

 

The green hides inside

With unspoken pride.

It comes at night,

Growing in might.

A fine mist falls first

As trees drink from thirst.

They swallow the green whole

By forming a deep hole.

As the fairies alight on leaves,

I need out of here, pretty please.

THE FALLEN

Sherbrooke Forest | By Penny Whetton

 

 THE FALLEN

 

Tree branches bend,

scarred by age.

Beaten by the storm,

many hit the ground

amid piles of leaves.

Without a proper burial,

no one mourns their loss.

The fallen won’t be forgotten

as replacements take root

in the shade of the tall trees.

Sunshine filters through the forest,

lighting the way for the future.