Dark Is The Woods On This Path Poem by James McLain

We were all conceived here deep in the woods.
No sun over head dark is the path through the trees.
This is my parents an old point of view,
it is not that they would but they certainly could.
Hiding this lie from my friends.
I no longer can tell but it's true.
They are seldom seen to far apart.
When they reappear,
it is why, we are so close togther.
Cross eye'd and every other one has a stigmatism.
This may have occured because of inbreading,
or may be not.
All of our teeth are to far apart.
To many birth marks are the same.
My teacher has said
that she has the same mother
and father in her only dream.
I can not define every archaic rule
that does not apply to me.
This rule may have already been broken
but never broken by me.
Remember to say why to Jack and Jill.
And I will stop by when I find my way out,
a different dark path through the woods.