(Based on a dream)
She sets out for a ride,
Hoping to clear her head,
Mindlessly pedaling down the wooded trail
The woods strangely silent
Seemingly full of dread
An omen of what’s to come when she is frail
Birds fail to sing their song
Squirrels don’t scamper by
But her mind can’t stop, trapped by her discontent
She pedals on, not concerned for time,
Yet worried about the things to come,
Regretting what has already passed.
The soulless oaks have nothing to say
The leaves fail to speak, the wind is still
The sun marches cruelly
To its daily slumber
Changing from yellow to orange, then to rust
She sees the nearing night
The stillness amplifies
Looking for her sense of place, she knows she’s lost
Unable to help herself, she calls
He answers and asks, “Where are you now?”
“I don’t know, a path less well kept,” she cedes.
“The trees were so strong and majestic.
Please come find me, only you can help.”
“I cannot follow you
I can wait for your return,”
He replied with a shudder that she could hear
“I’m scared and I’m lost.
I can’t turn back now”
She cried with anguish and whimpered, “I’m sorry.”
I am always here
I won’t leave this spot.
Just turn around now, trust my voice, don’t fear.
Twilight slipped to night as she turned.
