The Forest's Call

The forest pulls me back there, even through
The city blocks and gray asphalt, its hand
Securely fastened; so, back to that land
I shall return, all graced in trees and dew.
The tickling grass calls my name ever true,
And breezes, ever calming, clearly manned
By Sun’s warm grace, whisp’ring, “You miss the sand,
So do return, we know you’re wanting to.”
But, please don’t let them lull my soul in fawn!
My fingernails make markings in the wall
As I try desp’rately to keep cleaved on
That reminiscent city, standing tall-
Please, hold me back! Before my mind has gone!
I feel it slipping at the forest’s call…

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