The hardwood floor got scratched as I
Marched towards the door I once locked.
A knock was heard, it was by
A poet that held an axe.
The forest he destroyed, he told.
It was never his fault, he claimed.
Isolated in the woods, he tried
To restore what was once stolen.
He's only come to me once,
When a wild animal broke free;
Threatened the poet that it'd
Leave the sanctuary they'd built.
I'd helped him sow
Seeds that'll grow to trees.
He'd leave the hut
That I lived in once
YOU ARE READING
A Poet's Sojourn: His Compendium
PoetryTales of a poet that was saved by another poet: A collection of the poetry I wrote. I was trapped inside an endless void. I'm on the verge of going crazy- who said I wasn't?
