Something in the wood took you
I try to find pieces
Of your very being
Tucked beneath some moss rock
Or underground
In burrows of the thick and tangled undergrowth

Amidst a stillness
Tainted by an eerie drone
Suffusing the atmosphere
Traversing a terrain
Devoid of landmarks
I follow faint footprints
A sullen scent
I can hardly recall
A dulled voice
Sifting through the pine  
You are not there
All that remains of you is
An echo of an echo (of an echo).