My queries about the lonely trail arose seemingly before its existence was realized. I acknowledged its need to be tread upon once more, but never had the heart to do it. Until the day came in full green-cast light. Wind blowing over its grassless top. When the trees it hugged lured me in. The canopy above full with choruses of birds, the dusty guide led me on. The earth under seemed to sigh with comforting embrace of use. The hint of a smiled etched itself onto my face.
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
I figured I should write my first poem on the site about the beginning. But I wanted it to be the beginning of something that defines me. My longing for a storybook adventure. This is the beginning of my realization that they are real, but that I, and most others, look for one in all the places.