The Sounds Of The Forest Poem by Peter Vealey

The woods` in the mind's picture,
Of oh, so desired serenity.
The rich escaping the poor,
The poor, from anything cruel of heart.
Yet in no one, I have died
In the battle for,
The sound of the forest.
The inevitable cracking bracken nervously
Wide-eyed and doe driven
From an average B-movie
You sorely, wished you had slept through!
The hokey alchemists` favourite scheme
Feeling the rivers dream
Of survival