QUIETLY LONELY

 Into the mist, through the trees, walking barefoot,

 Leaves beneath my cold feet, leaves of brown and 

 The sun does not shine as the fog creeps across the

 Making Its' way through these lonely woods deep In 

 What Is alive as the morning awakes to a quiet day, 
 This day,

 So old are these woods, what tales they may tell of 

 Ghosts of the past, people who once were, they who
 Lived here,

 Quietly lonely as I think and dream, just quietly lonely.

                Keith Garrett 

2 thoughts on “QUIETLY LONELY

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