The Grotto

I drag my feet to the edge of the wood

And stare up at the sun

A single cloud nestled softly around it

Like a blanket of charming wisps.

Glancing right I see the grotto.

I've traveled a long ways 

My legs so tired from the journey

I've come to visit my memories

They've been alone for too long.

I walk along the edge of the forest

To this place where I used to come

To relieve my worries

And recharge my soul.

Inside I go, inside the grotto

Piles and piles of poems and books

Stacked tall and yellow

This was my second home.

When I was a child

With no place to go

I never feared much

Because I had my grotto.

Reviews

[Bitter Overdose]

This actually brought back the dream that I had once dreamed and forgotten - something that feels as safe as your grotto, something comforting. I love this.

[Marie]

This is nice; the grotto seems so safe.
In the fourth verse "I've traveled a long ways" should be "long way"; otherwise no flaws in your poem.

[Thomas Fitzgerald]

A most cleansing piece, it reminds all writers if the past, well done, good read.