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Description
I walk down an old trail,
barely glancing down at the well worn foot steps.
Only to slip on a strange new stone,
its glossy back reveled after years of rain carving the soil.

So the trail has changed, from the childhood days.

The old castle, abandoned but still draped in regal mossy trim,
with its noble rampart, held me tall as I tried to feel the soft clouds.
Now just an old pile of logs, with the last of their bark clinging on in tatters.
I touch the old tower, but it only creaks, and sprinkles wood dust on the ground.

The little brown birds that once spiraled in a fluttering dance,
even as I ran into the middle, and spun with them
now have turned to crust leaves, abandoned after fall.
Simply stirring in the wind.

I still walk, trying to squeeze my big shoes into tiny footprints.
Listening, for the wolf’s howl, calling me to play,
But left with nothing, except a memory, now a ghost.

Leaving me clinging to a pen and scrying for visions in ink.

Description
I walk down an old trail,
barely glancing down at the well worn foot steps.
Only to slip on a strange new stone,
its glossy back reveled after years of rain carving the soil.

So the trail has changed, from the childhood days.

The old castle, abandoned but still draped in regal mossy trim,
with its noble rampart, held me tall as I tried to feel the soft clouds.
Now just an old pile of logs, with the last of their bark clinging on in tatters.
I touch the old tower, but it only creaks, and sprinkles wood dust on the ground.

The little brown birds that once spiraled in a fluttering dance,
even as I ran into the middle, and spun with them
now have turned to crust leaves, abandoned after fall.
Simply stirring in the wind.

I still walk, trying to squeeze my big shoes into tiny footprints.
Listening, for the wolf’s howl, calling me to play,
But left with nothing, except a memory, now a ghost.

Leaving me clinging to a pen and scrying for visions in ink.