In the Woods – a poem about children moving on to school and missing their times of playing outisde in the woods.
In the woods, the children play, laughing, giggling all the day. With muddy hands and grassy knees, they climb the tallest, wobbly trees.
They find a spot to sit and rest, and think of ways they’re truly blessed. “God made the trees, the birds, the sky, and even made the bugs that fly!”
They build a fort with sticks and leaves, and whisper prayers beneath the eaves. “Thank you, God, for all this fun, for every leaf and every sun.”
They sing a song, a joyful cheer, for all the things they hold so dear. With every hop and every skip, they feel God’s love in every trip.
So, if you see them in the wood, just know they’re up to something good. With hearts so pure and spirits free, they worship God beneath each tree.
Now in the woods where shadows fall, their laughter now grows faint and small. Among the trees, they used to play, but now those days have slipped away.
Their footsteps echo, soft and light, in memories of a distant night. The leaves that rustle in the breeze, whisper tales of fun and ease.
Once they danced with hearts so free, underneath the canopy. But time has taken them away, Leaving only dreams to stay.
But now they sit at desks and sigh, as memories of woods drift by. The papers pile, the hours blend, the woodlands seem a distant friend.
The rustling leaves, the sunlit glade, the sacred games they once had played. Now live in dreams, in hearts confined, as echoes of a simpler time.
Yet in their minds, the woods remain, a sanctuary from the strain. When once they ran so free and wild, those memories linger with the child.