soft undergrowth pads the forest floor
sunlight, blocked by trees dapples my skin
warming a few inches at a time
an old house sits empty
untouched by human hands
vines creep up and through decaying walls
I have come home
24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
soft undergrowth pads the forest floor
sunlight, blocked by trees dapples my skin
warming a few inches at a time
an old house sits empty
untouched by human hands
vines creep up and through decaying walls
I have come home
Your poem felt so otherworldly, enchanting. Your words have painted a beautiful picture.