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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The year was 1680 and I was travelling, I sat in the carriage looking out the window; The coachman was driving the horses quickly, As a storm was approaching us from behind. Thunder was booming and rolled over the forest, Already raindrops were falling on the glass; The sky was overcast with dark shifting clouds, And everything was getting dull and gloomy. This road was so deserted and remote from civilization, I must admit that I was afraid. Suddenly the carriage lurched and was falling over, It bounced through the foliage, twisting and turning; And then it stopped and all was quiet and still, The coachman was dead and the horses also. Struggling, I managed to climb back up to the road, My corseted body, full overskirt of pink satin; And parchment petticoat unsuitable for climbing, The bun on my head loosened and my hair fell. Oh dear, it was so dark and misty on the road ahead. But I started to walk in the inkiness. The forest around me was pitch black and frightening, But there, through the trees a light was burning; The rain was coming down in torrents that blinded me, As I stumbled forward through the tangled trees. A wood cabin was hidden in green lush vegetation, It looked so secluded and isolated and lonely; But I found myself banging on the door loudly, As sheets of rain poured on me from up above. And then the door slowly opened and light spilled out, And I stood there dripping wet, and . . . . ________________________ August 22, 2015 Poetry/Narrative/Cabin in the Forest Copyright Protected, ID 15-702-939-0 All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
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