Clammy green carpet, among wooden giants' feet.
Bed of the forest under dancing red leaves.
A tickle on my lids, from a golden fount of light,
flowing like river through the pitch black night.
And when I looked up high, up to granny oak's crown,
I saw a cage for the bird songs and a new born dawn.
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My very first little poem, I did in english, so please have mercy on me.
I'm still new in the forest and absolutely fascinated! The proof, that even games can be art.
If I did a grammatic mistake, feel free to correct me. I'm still learning.