Down by the creek and
Hollows, peeks
Through the glade,
A looking glass sees.
The monster of man —
Wishing to be —
Cast languish on the well
For wishes that could be.
A rustle,
A stab,
A forager
In the trees.
Seeking,
Waiting,
no,
looking for me.
A portal then seen.
A boy whispers,
Yells for me.
Stand up he said.
We’ll be late to be fed.
It was something sad to be said.
That I was all in his head.
Feb 27
Feb 27, 2026 at 12:47 PM UTC
Down by the creek and
Hollows, peeks
Through the glade,
A looking glass sees.
The monster of man —
Wishing to be —
Cast languish on the well
For wishes that could be.
A rustle,
A stab,
A forager
In the trees.
Seeking,
Waiting,
no,
looking for me.
A portal then seen.
A boy whispers,
Yells for me.
Stand up he said.
We’ll be late to be fed.
It was something sad to be said.
That I was all in his head.
