By Silverlilia Rosehip
At day it fills with light,
Every pathway gold,
But when it comes to night,
The forest becomes cold.
The branches wither,
The trees are black,
The ground slithers,
There's no going back.
Wait until the morning,
Stay until the dawn,
Listen to the crawling,
Of strange things amongst the fern.
Flickers of sunrise,
Wake your sleep,
Wipes away fear and lies,
Makes the forest less deep.
The silver dew shines,
Sunshine pours about,
Draws aside the blinds,
Brightness all around.
You dare not look behind,
For fear of the darkest wood,
What lies in your mind,
Could it be real?.....It could.