They Never Left: Stanza 4 Poem by gordon francis

My magical forest had become trees
and
behind the trees stood
more trees
and shrubs
and grass.
All illusion
gone.
All delight.
Where once stood the Cowboy
now lay
'the old man's whiskers'.
Where once the Indian prowled
now moved
the shadowy branch.
Where once the Cops and Robbers sneaked
now shrieked
the Spruce and Fir.
The Monster became the wind:
the Witch,
the hollowed stump.
The Killer became the sun
and the Lovers
stayed away.