I left the road, tramped
in the fields until I came
to a forest growing dark.
I entered, moving from
tree to tree- on my way
without the moon, until
I entered a cave and lost
my center. I turned my
collar up against the cold,
- withdrawing my life
to see if anyone would
follow and fish it out.
Lovely, this. Does anyone follow? Nah, and then you walk out into the rising light.
Hmmm, I don't think this is the typical man-cave. I'd fish you out if I could, but I think this is part of the journey you are required to make in your quest as a wordsmith. Keep the collar turned up against the cold- my favorite detail.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Interesting poem! It is the darkness within that needs to be fought against…