Sandra Rao Poet Free verse

Lost in the woods

The path dissolved three turns ago
Green walls press closer now
Ferns brush against my bruised shins
Every tree looks like the last one
Sunlight drops the canopy like sharp needles
The air smells of damp moss and old rot
A twig snaps behind my left shoulder
I freeze
The forest holds it's breath with me
I am not longer the observer
I am the guest who stayed too late.

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Alison A Smith nee Howarth August 25, 2026 at 2:02 AM This vivid free-verse poem builds anxiety with striking sensory detail and a steadily tightening sense of confinement. Images such as the “green walls,” bruised shins, damp moss, and snapping twig make the forest feel animate and watchful. The closing shift from observer to unwelcome guest is especially effective, giving the encounter an unsettling emotional weight. Sandra Rao September 8, 2026 at 8:05 AM Thankyou😄