Dark The Deep Forest Of Childhood Poem by James McLain

The path through the bush is well worn
ivy climbs the brick wall
inside of each crack the moss
is attached
the light from the west grows cold.

Free as the wind we are bold
deeper inside we will go
vines hold us back
no see ums attack skin that is
soft as spun silk
it doesn't matter how far we can run.

We hide in a tree a tree full of leaves
watching him slowly
walk by.

Here there's a place where others have gone
none have come back
we will try.