The Forest

The air wasn't quiet, it was filled with songs and calls; but there was something that matched the hazy and gloomy tones.

You could hear it just underneath the noise if you stopped and listened below. The trees were full of secrets that were rarely ever known.

They only told to the wind that whispered to and fro. Listen closely and you’ll hear it, tales of new and old.

Tales only to the patient, only to the observant, only to the quiet. If you listen closely, maybe they’ll tell you where to find it.

Down the road, down a path, through all of the green and grey. You’ll find a place where time doesn’t exist and everything matches your pace.

You can whisper, you can wail, you can laugh, and tell your tale. They will listen, they will watch, and comfort you where others could not.

They will take your words, turn them into whispers, and send them off. So, they can join others in the wind, to never be forgotten again.

The forest isn’t just a place for ambiance, beauty, or pictures. It’s the place for the lost, a place for the abandoned, a place for the broken.

Hopefully, you’ll never have to tell as I did, but you can always hear our stories in the wind. Stories of abandonment and hurt and of people to busy to care.

But please don’t leave here sad, depressed, and feeling down. Just know that the winds always find a way to turn a frown the other way around.

Though we were hurt, broken, or depressed. The winds always eagerly whisper, “But guess what happened next?”