Tim Worden


The Sentinel

As I looked through the penetrating mist,
which surrounded the empty plot of land,
in the early morning,
I saw little dots rising in the sky.
Peeking through the vapours of life stood tall trees,
watching me with ever-piercing leaves that were eyes.
As I walked further and further from the stream,
the trees became more and more visible;
became more and more watching.

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