ErigadGreatwood

The Forest Old I walk through the forest, trees of ages old. Under it boughs I tread, and through it's vines I push, A path it is I mold. Just like a book to be read, hiding its tales on the coming lines. I cannot tell what lies ahead, just beyond the vines. O ancient wood. What do you keep you forest of old? The bones of many who were courageous and bold? I wonder about you, you forest of the ages past. You secrets O will surely last. O ancient wood, What did you say old willows and pine? You whisper between yourselves as the wind passes thine. With all you gossip, and talking about. You must get up from you slumber, and walk aro