The Unexpected Visit

The Unexpected Visit

Branches spread arms wide embracing the light
as leaves lay a carpet, soft underfoot.
Such are the sources of my day's delight
as shadows deepen from light gray to soot.

The cast-off bract rustles under my feet.
Small twigs add their sound to the melody
as snap they fall prey to my striding beat.
Nature's composition to hear and see.

Magical sprinkles dance on bright sunbeams;
imagination brings fairies to life.
Playing on the light, these gossamer dreams
scamper about as my fancy runs rife.

From verdant shadows, a Norwegian pine
stands tall, its branches like well-muscled arms.
It offers a promise, against the skyline,
of climbing and swings among its many charms.

Memories of childhood, a father's warm hand,
as we walked in the forest, a glint in his eyes.
There in a glade, all along he had planned
a child's delight. A wonderful surprise!

Ropes and a seat beckoned to me.
There, in the shadows, a wondrous find.
More than a swing, it held the key
to adventures untold all within my mind.

In this small clearing, dotted in pink
with woodland flowers and blooming dogwood,
I found a world into which I could sink
into the fantasies of my childhood.

The voice of my memories now command
forgotten feelings, the wind rushing past,
the rough feel of hemp tightly grasped in my hand
as I fly through the air.  Freedom at last!

Suddenly I'm aware that deep within
fragments of a song whisper of truth.
The words find the lost music, as I begin
to recapture the windsong from my youth.

A flash, like a vision, comes into my mind.
Soaring through cool shadowy air,
I sing of the movement and suddenly find
words and a music that flow like my hair.

Onward and upward my song and I
entwined with the movement deep in the copse
and sing of the pleasures found in the sky
until a crashing sound brings me to a stop.

There in the clearing, disheveled, distraught,
stood a young man, his dark eyes wild.
He had come to my rescue, without forethought,
lured by the sad cries of a lost child!

"It was my windsong," I cried in protest!
"You call that singing," was his breathless retort.
And so started a friendship that, in time, has blessed
us each with fond memories and support.

My attention refocuses to the trail that I'm on;
the memories fade like the diminishing lights.
Soft flashes in shadows erupt and they're gone.
I know they're the smiles of my childhood sprites.



Notes
Word Count: 427
Line Count: 56
Form: Quatrains with abab

This is based on an original story created by Miz Kitty
© Copyright 2009 Miz Kitty (UN: bluemejazz at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.