Cracking sticks as I walk along in the forest in the night Hearing all the forest noises; a moan giving me a fright The snapping of twigs up in the trees And yellow eyes peering down at me The chirping of crickets, the hooting of owls, the slow, low, unfriendly growls. In the air-a cold, windy chill Continuing on on just my will Desiring the warmth that I once knew In this heartless cold; my toes now blue Lost and hopeless, I now must say I wish I'd never run away.
Reason for writing:
To show you what a real poem is like, fools.
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