You, the Forest

Your skin is bark and leaves and moss,

Your breath is petrichor.

Your eyes are stony, laced with frost,

And closed forevermore.

Your blood runs fresh through tree-trunk veins,

From a heart of rain and thunder.

And as the beasts play woodland games,

You lie in endless slumber.

With twigs of bones in midnight sleep,

And a gentle snoring gale,

A riverbed running in dreamlike deep,

Under moonlight, soft and pale.

You rest at night beneath limitless lights,

A dappled shine falling on the flowers below.

Your resting eye sheds teardrop bright,

And bathes your face in starset glow.

Now night has left and still you rest,

A gift, a home, a friend.

May your dreams be nothing but the best,

For they shall never end.