PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Whilst thrumming through spider strings on abandoned paths

Knowing not how far had been walked, nor quite where I was

I suddenly found myself in a place that shall not be seen again 

By any but the rabbits and birds for another handful of decades

For that looked how long the campsite had been deserted 

Prior to my exploratory step into the clearing

I had been hiking along what I'm sure once could have been called a trail 

When a broken ring of rocks surrounding sun baked charcoal came into view

Felt I like the ghost of a moth, lured to the ruined pit's long extinguished flame

For it bade me come closer, and I could not turn away

Nearby lay a crumbling heap of gathered twigs and branches

To the side rested a large log, sunken and deteriorating 

It would have offered a sturdy seat some eighty years, or a lifetime ago

I stood silent in the clearing, offering veneration to a forgotten soul

Until the falling sun called my spirit back to my own fleeting life

It is time to return, darkness is circling