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forestbathing

forestbather

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Stories from the Wood

 

Every piece of driftwood

Has a story to tell

Every roamer

Has a soul to sell

Every loner

Has been to hell

 

I've sat on the back

Of freight trains

Watched the tracks

clicking and ticking

Like an old grandfather clock

A few minutes before midnight

A few moments of respite

 

Sandy beaches

Pebbled shores

Rocky cliffs plunging

Forever more

 

I run my finger

on the smooth driftwood

a pirate ship once

that sailed the seven seas

I too, once, was free

 

Source: http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.com