Feet slip slightly on leaf-topped trails

Hiding muddy walking paths

Where skittish birds and creatures laugh along

With my own heart

Being cut apart

To be filled with a jungle of joy

Air smells sweet

But also of death and rebirth

Of consumption and thirst

Life unending

And turning

Still learning of new things

Yet memory not failing the old

Catch the perfume of a life in flowers

Dying plants in the wandering hours

And stories seldom told

 

anthony forrest