I'd walk down through the forest in the rain
to see the girl in green and feel her pain
uncertain of her life so many ways
yet outwardly she'd laugh throughout the days.
All dressed in greenery of vine and leaves
pine needles for her collars; black oak sleeves,
she'd dance and sing there in our greenery
and though so sad, she never showed to be.
She teased me every morning in her way
that made a sheer delight of every day,
the forest was her home, I know not where
and when I'd ask, she'd tell me--"over there
right next to you but far back in the trees
in just a house of stone, where no one sees,
nor tries to understand what I can't show
the me they never see and do not know."
The images of her are with me yet
as part of me and what I'll not forget
but then one day I blinked and she was gone
I could not ask of her to anyone...
...for she lived over there--back through the trees
I in a different world, where no one sees.
© ron wilson