Calling
The forest is calling
and I must go
but,
the forest is hard to find
now.
By the roadside are
scraggles of honeysuckle
and swaying young locust
but,
the towering oaks that
colored the horizon
in my dreams
are lonely columns in collapsed temples.
So,
I run my hand along long grasses
and
long for where I cannot be.
6 thoughts on "Calling"
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…long for where I cannot be.
Ever seeking the tall tree.
Much said in this poem, implied and otherwise.
the first line gave me cold chills
and the last line caught in my throat.
beautiful.
technically the first statement, i mean.
“Lonely columns in collapsed temples” did it for me
I love the words “scraggle” and “temples.” Honeysuckle is taking over the forest.
I know this exact feeling!