The Woods

a memory

The Woods

 

There’s a forest,

Just outside the back door

Of my grandmother’s house.

I used to eat my dinner

On the back steps and speak

To the shadows.

I asked questions about things

That I won’t understand till I’m older.

I would hold my lips close

And stop breathing

Trying to hear a reply.

I’d speak again

And the bark of the trees would absorb my words

Grandma would call from the kitchen for pecan pie

Right as the woods were about to reply

And I would miss their answer

Every time.

Author's Note

just looking for honest critiques, helpful revising tips

Reviews

[Mauricio Montoya]

like how you use the forest as a metaphor for the questions we ask life, but never get an answer.
great job.