A Leafy Wood!

A stroll in the leafy wood was not a good idea! The Foureyed Poet.

The Foureyed Poet

Strolling in a leafy wood on a spring evening

birds singing as insects become an irritation.

Sunlight glistening through the branches

the small group of friends happy in their fun.

But none realised just where they had walked

laughing and running slowing as they talked.

As the sun set the cold began take hold

the atmosphere took a more series turn.

Laughter turned sour as trees thickened

noises not of birds but unknown origin.

Sinister shrieks magnified in the pitch black

one of the girls moaned let us turn back.

Stopping and getting into a huddle for warmth

an overbearing pressure made them cower.

The sound of wings fluttering high in the trees

deafening rumbles came from down below.

In the distance a blurry shape came their way

like an evil banshee it had come to slay.

Finding a hidden source of energy they ran

unsure of which way to make an escape.

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Published in: on 23/12/2014 at 19:55  Leave a Comment  

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