Dead and dark undergrowth keep your destination hidden,
Birds cackle not stopping until the destination is found.
You climb the steep mountain side,
As a
latter, elevation rising.
Follow the winding slate road, destination unknown,
A lone lamp, lights the way acting as your guide.
Breaks in shadows design your path
Your
journey has just begun.
Mystery to all who cannot see them,
Leaving hints only the simple mind may notice,
The mind of child,
To see
something unseen.
Birds not cackling rather a thundering applause
Urging you
on, to finish the race.
The path turning you around, a full 360
Child
imagination, a reality.
Bundled tight, twisted, woven rising above ground
“Oh so cool!” “Watch out! It poked me!”
Art you glance past every day on your path
Is the
untold story to the mind of a child.
Only little people could live in the grand cathedral
As the branches quickly turned to marbled stone
Which was once just artwork
Now a place
where gnomes roam.
Floors and stairs, winding the halls of the huts
Unseen to only the adult eye
“They live in a secret a society”
Explained
the girl to adult, the nonbeliever.
Looking out the home of the gnome
You wouldn’t see the lush green underbrush
Or the tree
leaving a trail of blossoms
You find the blue engulfing the heavens
With no
beginning or end in sight
The gnomes harvesting the pedals of blooms
Decorating
the land for the celebration of spring
The daydream to the adult is the reality to the child.
The symbolic caps and gowns
Not only
home to the winning art piece location
But
the journey of a gnome in simple mind.
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