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The Stag of Spring

Poetry of Spring

By The Rainbow RamPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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Winter, falling softly… how many days have we seen?

Where grass doesn’t dare grow, for fear of losing green?

Winter Wonder is no more, the floor is cold as Ice.

The woodland creatures fast asleep, the den is now a vice.

Amongst the trees and fallen grass, the branches crack and break.

Footsteps come and go in here, but the forest does not wake.

A pathway long forgotten, all grown up with thorns and vines.

This path is never taken, unless The Stag goes passing by.

He comes within the Winter, when everything is dead.

He comes when things are sleeping, too weak to lift their heads.

His antlers made of cherry wood, his fur now pelted with grey.

The age of him is never known, neither is his dismay.

For many years within this Wood he’s walked a lonely road.

The forest long forgotten, all the tales now left untold.

His hooves are made of stone, and his breath is made of steam.

It’s with his slow and dying breath… he breaths out life and green.

nature poetry
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About the Creator

The Rainbow Ram

The Rainbow Ram lives in the beautiful state of Idaho. She is fantasy author and spends her free time writing romance novels!

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