Apple orchards run through mellow forests
Yellow nightingales chirp new tunes
Leaves glisten warmly in the silence
Sweet unending rivers solemnly reflect the light of the moon

But at the heart of this alluring forest
An abandoned woodshed stands frayed
Uninhabited, still, lifeless
Lost and broken amidst countless days

Yet every now and then
The creaking of a door can be heard
The sound of a lost traveller looking for sanctuary
Deaf to the calls of the absurd

Wandering inside the once forgotten cage
Slowly warming its fading hearth
Painting the abandoned woodshed with unfamiliar colors
Piecing all its prickly pieces in the dark

Giving light to the once unsightly place
Footsteps now beginning to make their way
Towards the heart of the forest
Where nothing will ever be the same

When I was young grandma said
walk as if you have a book on your head
that way you will foster
good posture
with every step you tread.

Where was your sense of compunction
as you held your stony faced head high?
What kind of messed up malfunction
gave you the right to let that man die?

I look out of my window, what do I see
crows congregating, cawing at me.
Capricious by nature with their noisy behavior,
shouting, come quick! there's cake for our tea.