Little World

A Poem by Anita May

We stepped over fallen trees,
Some covered with a layer of water from past rains.
We passed through fields of ferns,
Trying not to wreck the natural beauty.
We leaped over little creeks,
Though silently wanting to jump right in.
Sometimes finding a trail to follow,
We had to decide which path to take.
Coming to forks in the trails,
We had to decide which way to turn.
Having no place in mind to go,
There was no wrong way to walk.
We payed little mind to the heat,
Just talking and walking through the forest.
We ignored the bugs and noises,
Being in our own little world.
No where to go,
And no place to be.
I long for our little world.