Forest Girl

FOREST GIRL 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 aka Vee Bdosa the Doylestown Poet