My son is my inspiration
He is totally mad
Holding my hair up with lego bricks is how he’ll have me clad
After doing my hairstyle, in a rocket we will go
Flying through the universe to find aliens with pink toes
This is life with Henry
My son who’s conceptual
I’m writing this whilst lego bricks are gripping at my skull
The wine from your veins is sweet
To me this is a rare old treat
For wine is usually metallic
To drink it, I like to be quick
Though no real nourishment I get
For your wound I closely vet
That your health is waning away
So I’ve more or less saved the day
I drink from you my mortal
But I offer you another realmly portal
Will you accept it or not?
Or will you choose your life to rot?
I offer you eternal life
Will you accept this other life?
The mossy forest is my home, the earthy smells and the earthy tones
I love the damp, the waterfalls, and the fallen trees where creatures crawl
I ponder matters of life in here
I love this forest so very dear
I trudge on past endless wooded beasts
Smelling their fragrance, in awe of their wreath
I am at home here in my wood
I would always stay here if I could
Poem not based on any particular woodland, I love mossy forests and woodlands, especially if they have some kind of water feature. I suppose this woodland is of imagination, perfect in every way and if I could find such a place, I think I’d very seldom leave it.