My Woods

I sought refuge in the forest of my youth.

The woods that I frequented in the bright morning of my life.

Those days when all it took was a sunny day with blue skies to make everything seem alright.

I lost myself in the rich green foliage, the babbling brook and the smell of decaying leaves interspersed with the smell of the new life of forest blooms carried on the warm spring breeze that rustled the outstretched arms of my old friends who stood as sentries guarding the sacred sanctuary of my adolescence.

I basked in the wondrous sunlight of the precious years that were gone.

Letting the warmth of childhood memories warm my weary, heartsick bones.

For a moment in time everything was alright. I was in a place where everything was good, surrounded with the beauty that was my garden of Eden. Here, in these woods I felt that I was safe from the odious evil of this planet called earth.

Caw, caw. I awoke, the angry cawing of a belligerent crow brought me back to reality, reminding me.

That though I felt safe here in my little paradise, it was just an illusion, for things aren’t always what they seem to be.