Robin in Hoylake

Extra Poetry  


It is dark in the forest,
and all sound is swallowed
by the cathedral trees.

My sister’s hair glows
in the cunning moonbeams
piercing the darkness.

"I'm not afraid," I tell her.
She needs the company of lies
now that the breadcrumbs are gone.

And the sweet green smell
of failing leaves warms us
mingling with a sweeter scent

reaching out to us,
whispering bright colours
and comforts I don't trust.

But when we find the cottage
in a glade of liquorice trees,
still, we run to it laughing.



©2012 Robin Laffan