Then
The trees of the forest towering high,
Will they ever touch the sky?
The fresh dewy smell,
and wet flowers,
The Myserious Forest has magical powers.
Fires in the clearing,
The crackling I am hearing.
The faint light from the forest on the hill,
Our empty baskets ready to fill.
The fresh dewy smell
And wet flowers,
The Mysterious Forest has magical powers.
Our round huts round,
Built into the ground.
Surrounded by trees,
And animal pleas.
Those wet flowers,
That dewy smell,
The Mysterious forest is casting it's spell.
The End
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THE GOODS
You're currently reading the poem
Then, which
was posted on Jul 18, 2010 by
Emzz.
This is a collaborative poem.
About this poem
"Stuff"
This poem is filed under:
Simple Rhyme
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