There was an old poet named Mark
Who loved to steal walks in the park.
One day he was frightened,
A big dog did bite him.
He does nothing more on a lark.

walking in a dark forest
Leaves crunch beneath my boots
the only sounds come from snapped twigs and fidgeting bodies
Along the tree line are staring eyes
People shifting occaisionly, not speaking
Just staring
They don’t break eye contact
Not once
I keep walking, holding myself tightly
Walking towards a light, but every step I take,
the more the staring gets to me
I try to ignore but then the whispering starts
And suddenly I’m getting chills
their eyes are cutting into me
Now I’m running
Crunching leaf sounds are behind me
As the whispering becomes defeaning
Covering, covering my ears
tears mix with grime
Breathing heavy
sprinting away from the whispers
Finding myself on smooth pavement
Heart beating rapidly but the whispers have stopped
Collapse onto the ground
in a pile of tears
But the stares are still there
just at the edge of the woods
Watching, emotionless.

If only this dog could talk,
We'd chat as we went for walks,
Indeed, what would a dog say?
"Hello tree, how are you today?"
"Hello, each blade of grass,
Hope this walk's not my last."
"Hello, cute little poodle,
Puppies we could have oodles!"
But what would a poodle say?
"Just keep on walking, on your way!"

Lets just walk a mile
for a while
not thinking
about where to go

all the places
I stroll with your
hand in mine
would be our destination.

©ladywithpen

Now Is Not A Time Of Wind And Cloud,No
A Forest Fly's Away The Sky Of Place
Landing On A Moon Lit Shore By The Sea
The Turtle World Sails Far Across And Goes
To A conscious realm, of cars and t.v.
something walks