Woodland Walk

I met my past in the woods today,
beneath those speckled brown hen branches.
I saw the ivy tendrils curling
around aging, rotten trunks
that twist and knarl their roots,
suffocating with lack of breath
they fall in mystic rejuvenation,
these stallions of childhood climbs
leaving room for young saplings
that yearn and vie for light,
laying hope in carpets of
leaves that never dry and crisp
upon the compost of rich soil.
I remember racing, pony's
hooves flying and mud spraying.
We would holler up the grassy banks
to where the old rope swing swung,
swaying in our lives.
There were summer days,
of seeking for a cool sea breeze
and staring over shimmering seas
as we would watch the dolphins play
diving amongst the mackerel shoals.
Those hard oak apples still stick to branches,
dried and wizened brown,
and sea holly defies the gorse
in bright determination.
Do you remember the bluebells
that fell down the cotil,
like a carpet of indigo
as we would lie and breathe
the scents of verdant earth?
A sky would stretch forever
over purple heather paths,
and meeting in the woods
we grew memories together.
They come and leap like
stones flashing in clear springs,
leaping from the old moss
that creeps through
ruined stones.
I wonder will my soul die
if my past stoops and sinks
mud over spilling, sucking away
those sticky gumboot smiles?
I love to hear the woodland tunes,
where all my pasts are blended
into tomorrow and yesterday.
I rush to greet and meet the past
as she trickles in the magic streams
overlapping on the shores
splashing cool water that
refreshes long lost thirst.
It's only a fleeting glimpse
but today I ran again those paths
on a woodland walk once more.




Poetry by Elle The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 533 times
Written on 2008-03-24 at 09:49

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