.
from Laminated in Booktown, Marie's Mail Box, 4 May 2013
Where those woods were I think I know.
My house stands in the village though;
I've been promised these things don't change.
The woods were lovely, dark, and deep;
They were just over there a moment ago;
I've been assured they can't have gone far.
Still there are promises no one keeps
And suddenly everything looks strange:
Can woods be moved while someone sleeps?
To find those woods now I must seek
A passerby from another place
To ask if there's been some mistake.
This post dedicated to Marie