Sometimes when I stop
And stare, at the quick and easy.
I question rather repeatedly,
The direction of the wind so breezy.
An entrapment of original ideas,
Which makes no one want to flee.
But then I think that maybe,
The woods are lost, not me.
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 1:51 AM UTC
Sometimes when I stop
And stare, at the quick and easy.
I question rather repeatedly,
The direction of the wind so breezy.
An entrapment of original ideas,
Which makes no one want to flee.
But then I think that maybe,
The woods are lost, not me.
woods, lost, life, wind, perspective, obeservance
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