Painting by Peder Mork Monsted

Abandoned Woods

I trod on the withered quilt of bygone moments
The memories hung up there on the trees
basking in the reminiscent sun
waiting for the nostalgia to caress my senses

Besides the river of sub-consciousness
the empty flute of my heart
craved for the marshy ground
where its infant reed had grown

In the depths of the forlorn night
beneath the weeping willow
the barren womb of the mossy lake
yearned for the reflection of the moon

A twig of time detached and fell into the past
breaking the drowsy layers of my reverie
I awoke in the lands of deforestation
my childhood slept with the abandoned woods