Think of a wondrous wonderland

of colours red golden green,

So many sights to entice you

of things unspoken unseen,

Of pixies dancing

the night away,

The owls fly low

moon beams out to play,

And in the clearing

in the wood,

The wise old oak

so silent stood,

A lonesome stag

stands by his side,

A bond of trust

nature turns tide,

The oak so old

a testament to time,

His generations grow around him

wisdom passed down the line,

The stag walks to

the waters edge,

A solitary figure

upon the rocky ledge,

He takes a drink

as eyes dart around,

Ears pricked up

unfamiliar sound,

Campers laughing

thin smoke in the wood,

They’ve no idea at the magic

its misunderstood,

The campers settle down

it’s been a long day,

Night owl screeches loudly

passes on his way,

Over the trees

low over valley,

Into the town

atop post in dark alley,

The alley is lit

from street lights cast glow,

Hiding the undesired

the forgotten of life’s flow,

But within the forgotten

there’s magic to see,

And they know of natures beauty

of all it can be,

For the forgotten see

with untainted eye,

The magic of life

the rest of us pass by….

.x.

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