Walking in the WoodA Poem by Chris ShawThese woods have stood majestic for more years than I will ever know, and saplings grown from scattered fruit are keen to stretch their necks to grow. Taller, taller to the height where they can catch the gems at night. See copper-coloured leaves float down, another layer, move on by. Then soon a clearing starved of trees where I can view a cloudless sky. Higher, higher on the wing, the Red Kites soar, what joy they bring. I can but hope this place remains for generations yet to come, for here is where my senses feel acute, in truth my song is sung. Louder, louder, hear it clear with each and every passing year.
© 2018 Chris ShawAuthor's Note
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Added on April 23, 2018Last Updated on April 26, 2018 AuthorChris ShawBerkshire, United KingdomAboutAlbert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..Writing
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