My Love
For I found you in the forest,
you with your ancient arms and legs.
When I found you, there was silence,
for we did not need to speak.
For I found an ancient tree,
and
you taught me so much about love.
Poetry | Stories | Photography
My Love
For I found you in the forest,
you with your ancient arms and legs.
When I found you, there was silence,
for we did not need to speak.
For I found an ancient tree,
and
you taught me so much about love.
connected by a spiritual cord
the scent of flowers
far from each other
yet both smell the scent
connecting together
so far from each other
their vision fogs
both run for the door
a rendezvous
Whispers from the woods
Whispering, ‘come and play.’
Waking from a slumber,
setting out on an adventure.
While small feet move, the
woods hold still, waiting.
When she enters the woods,
there are no feelings of malice.
Walking along to a song
she has never heard before.
Whispering sounds calm her
footsteps as they quicken.
Wise and tall, the old one stands
looking at her like her mum.
Wondering, she moves closer,
as the tree comes to life.
Windless leaves seem lifeless,
yet there is magic all around.
Walking through the entrance,
another world awaits
and the leaves of the old
world rustle and wave.
The forest is full of the sounds of snow-covered trees, scurrying creatures, and the hoot of an owl.
By the lambent glow of the lamp, a witch walks along carrying a song to the trees, the snow, and the Earth.
As she walks, trees bow, creatures dance, and the owl nods.
Dancing within our words,
sitting by the amber lamplight.
Looking at the other,
we see particles of starlight.
Loving what is blooming,
La Luna words by the moonlight.
The door you can never enter,
intricate patterns carved into the door.
A child should be seen and not heard,
so you dared never enter the wooden door.
Older, you arrive at the house from long ago;
no longer a child, yet you have the heart of a child.
No longer afraid, you are dripping with curiosity.
To hell with it, you whisper,
then turn the handle and walk into the room.
Your Grandmother sits at her desk,
within a room of dreams and magic,
‘I wondered when you would join me.’
You smile and take the stars within your hands;
now you are ready for your mother’s secrets.
‘You have always been a witch, and now it is time to become one. Welcome to the heart of our coven, my beautiful Granddaughter.
I wish your mother could see this day, yet you know she still lingers.’
Shunned for being different, blamed for the famine and the storms.
An ostentiferous girl with violet eyes and dark hair, a beauty not fit for this world, was sent to live in the forest.
Walking to forget, to find kindness and a warm home, she stumbled upon a beautiful tree with a wooden door.
Feeling as if nothing mattered, she opened the door, stepped inside, and left the cold lonely forest behind.
The forest spirit
let me walk through the forest
without feeling fear.
A fantasy,
a glimmer of wings and magic.
Did I dream, or was it a fantasy,
looking into the bathroom cupboard?
A fantasy,
a gree fairy flutters before me.
Groggy,
waking up in the bathtub naked.
A fantasy:
no, it was absinthe and the cat.