As I run down the trail
Light shimmers through the ceiling of leaves.
Wooden pillars surround me,
As intimidating as giants.
Branches like stairs
Create the perfect climbing tree.
As I climb higher and higher
The adrenaline pumps through me.
When I reach the top
I can see throughout the valley.
And as I look down
I see the daunting height.
While I descend,
I see the beautiful lime leaves reflecting the light.
I should be enveloped by fear
But instead by awe.
And my feet finally touch the ground.
The cars whipped by,
Racing down the twisting streets,
Skipping past the memories carved into the town.
From past famous poets
All of whom worshipped mother nature,
Telling the story of the wild green fields,
The swaying trees and jumping bushes.
As I stood on the rough ground,
The sun beating down at me and the wind whispering into my ear,
I saw history
Good and bad,
Old and new,
The Foresters’ connection flowing ever deep,
Twisting through the bendy streets.
Old elderly smiling away,
Robins flying through the waving trees,
En’t it beautiful,
Sitting in the forest,
Trees waving as if they are saying hi.
The Forest of Dean
The trees taller than I have seen,
Roots stronger than they have ever been,
Squeaking squirrels, always being mean.
Bright green leaves, as bright as a lime.
Stumbling off the tree, it took its time.
So long it could have committed a crime.
Dark oak wood,
The independent tree has calmly stood
The bark crumbling away, just as it should.
Time passes. Seasons change.
Our mystic forest will stand for an age.
Outside to In
Trees remind me of waves
Brushing through the wind.
The forest is big,
Bright and beautiful
With all creatures
Great and small.
The bugs climbing up the bark
Looking for smelly food.
The look of the bright yellow green leaves
Reminds me of a rainbow
In the air.
The bright blue sky
In the morning
And at night
Just remember to be in bed
By eight or nine…
The monster under my bed
Has gone now
My mum said so
But some nights
I don’t believe her
I can hear strange noises
From under the bed.