|I walk along a trail well worn,
fallen branches, scattered acorn.
The sun peeks through a cloudy day,
traveling in its southern stray.
Timid doe, a wary being,
stares intently, ponders fleeing,
she flicks her tail, fawns will follow,
speckled ones traipse through the hollow.
A fallen log upon the path
by nature's storm of bygone wrath,
a peaceful place of calming life
is hidden from the city strife.
A breeze loosens the leaves so free
to color the soft wooded sea.
Wildflower waves a cheery face,
such beauty seen without a vase.
I think of times of distant yore,
centuries of life gone before.
As I part, I will leave a kiss,
return someday to wondrous bliss.
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