Farewell to the forest

Moshe Forman
May 25 · 1 min read
Photo by Axel Holen on Unsplash

A touch, your golden crown, a thorn,
speaking slowly of love stillborn.

Shall I walk away as I did before,
or lay to slumber on the forest’s peat floor.

Shall I recall once more that stolen kiss,
of lovers stranded between pain and bliss.

I’ll walk away, lest I recall,
A time much better, before the fall.


Moshe Forman, May 2019

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Moshe Forman

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When I’m not a poet, novelist, or writer of short stories, I’m a writer of creative non-fiction exploring Self, Food, Society and History. www.mosheforman.com

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