The Choice



This poem needs a little back-story. At my church there was a patch of trees where we used to be able to play capture the flag and waste a lot of time during church picnics. Recently, the forest was hollowed out and all that is left is a perimeter. During Literature a few weeks ago, we went on a walk around the church property and it was the first time I saw what had happened.

The Choice

As I come upon the knoll,

I cannot help but wonder,

If, perhaps a part of my soul,

Has gone away to wander.
As I look upon the trees,

I hear the bird’s retreation.
The woods are on their knees,

The trees bowed in submission.

The loved forest has fled,

And left a clearing in its wake.

Its leaves have formed a bed,

Enticing you to take,

A doze among their midst.

But no! I must not!

No matter how you persist,

 I must vacate this spot!

As I gather up the courage

It will take to walk away,

Please don’t be discouraged,

I’ll be back again… someday.