The Enchanted Woods

As we wander deep into the forest of truth,
Leafless shrubs seem to crouch and hold an honest grip to the shallow, pebble strewn soil,
Endless avenues of an evergreen forest,
Leave a carpet of rotting leaves squelching at your step,
The bitterness of winter in the hills of yonder,
A thick mist clinging to the trees that delve deeper into a pondering shower,
Relentlessly seeking peace I run with aching limbs in the ravines of those darkening woods,
And all I can hear are the birds hooting menacingly to a dangerous prelude,
An outburst of thunder and the constant anxiety,
Took me to play with a hush and a surge of tension,
Inevitable as all seemed I treaded the forest willingly,
Only to reach the hand of comfort,
That came from a mother miraculously,
To bring respite in the cottage of selfless humanity.
©Rucha Sudhir Khot

About the Author