Poetry

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Like a drug I'm compelled
An index finger points the way
The path covered in vagueness
Only trust leads my day

The forest is my storybook
Few paths I've known
Some are smooth and uneventful
Some are treacherously bare

Once a lesson comepletes
And a short respite occurs
The forest fairies find me
And another adventure is assured

My feet are weary from twists and stones
Tripping along the way
But nonetheless the spirits find me
And again I've nothing to say

Excuses are lame
Whining creates more
So, quietly I proceed
Wandering the magic roads of lore






Passing through the brush
Carrying my satchel of prayers
Perhaps I'll pass a man
A man who relinquishes terrors

And I'll look for him in the forest
And hope he shall see
Our eyes will meet at once
Then I'll know he's for me.





Bonnie Jennings
July 2013

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