Aspen Eyes

It’s not the trees nor the space between them

That’s makes a forest a forest

But what lurks between them

Stalking you with golden eyes

Resembling newborn stars in virgin skies

Reminding you of who the trespasser is

What makes a forest is what lives beneath

Roots like veins making the earth a living pumping being

It is in the magic spoken in long forgotten tongues

Restless monsters listening

To the whispers of ancient trees

It’s the feeling of branches scratching your cheek

Your heart pumping in your chest

It is the feeling that you are both home

Yet somehow still in danger

What makes a forest a forest

Is fear when you find yourself

Not so alone in the woods as you thought you were