the wood is dark with threatening trees

every time i look they are closer

though  i never see them moving

 

i have been trying to find the path now

for  a long lonely week or longer

i lost count of all time and direction

 

if the breadcrumbs we dropped ever existed

they are not to be found any where now

eaten by hungry birds for survival

 

does the witch of the wood really exist

she may have been killed long long ago

or is her house in the next clearing

 

is the cage baited with sweet delights

is the clang of the trap waiting ready

are her fires well stoked for the roasting

 

in the dark i stumble over ancient roots

twigs snatch at my hair like gnarled fingers

in darkness there is only despair