Lost

An almond dirt trails into the woods where an old cottage home sits, Yet I can not find for the deer intrudes the almond trail in the lost whistle of wind. So I bound to wait in the forest- listening to the nature's call and watching the skies who arise and fall, as eyes are glazing to the echoing angle of each forbidden tree. I plea to sight for the oak old door and pearl window that looks far out and over sees. And the walls stand so fairly high, but the roof hangs low, so low that the forest's leaves bow unto the top. The leafy green and yellow seems to always love to sit. But I fear, as long as I am standing in this place of nowhere, that the cottage I long to view will be no portrait to stare. Yet if you look at high- just above the tree tops, yet look above- farther than the mountains stop, a coconut feathered Eagle spreads its wings to glide. And from side to side, I cant help but to stare in awe... Wanting to even touch with my fingers- I leap out forward to walk the miles distance in temptation for more. And all do is walk, turning east to west, following where the sun departs. Where the stars are first sketched, the Eagles then flies north, where the moon is sketched shape from behind the clouds. But- The browness of its coated feathers disappears, and in the dimness of the light, my cottage appears. The old oak door and the yellow and orange roof top, was something that I dreamt to see... But where that Eagle has flown is meant unknown, but the roaming of it has lead me home.