Under roofs of aging pine
Where the trees in rows align
I awake a forest doss
On a strip of golden shine

Missing shoes is not a loss
When I step a floor of moss
Feel the urge of turning spread
But the light I have to cross

All is faint that comes ahead
Staring at my feet instead
Then I’m left with just a nose
As I in the light embed

Pine cones fall under my toes
Where it’s going, no one knows
But I’ll keep the forest close
Forest close, forest close