The Forest Cottage

A quaint cottage nestled among the trees
Gaily painted trim forming a window and a door.
In the eves of the roof the forest birds made their
Nest. A soft cottage with a gentle touch
Painted in fairy tales,
The windows adorned in white lace curtains
With squares of glass to let in the sun,
To warm the air inside the dainty house.
A flower box filled with the pretties of spring
Beneath the window slightly raised so the
Breeze can bring their beauty in.
Tall oak trees and their lofty branches
Formed an umbrella over the cottage below.
In autumn months the playful squirrels
Gather acorns for the winter to come
Dropping acorns to the cottage roof
Scampering down the nearest tree to retrieve
The ones they lost on the ground below.
The modest furnishing of a simple life
Provide the comforts of a home.
The forest green from its rebirth in spring
Wild flowers displaying their riches for all to see.
Spring's aroma fills the air with smells of fresh
new living things that came to life in spring.
The flowers growing around the cottage displayed
Their beauty in a joyful way.
A kettle hangs in the fire place on a hook embedded
In stone A fireplace with sand stone in brown,
And red and a hearth of granite stone
A path well worn by years of travel winding.
Over a brook and under the trees beginning where
The forest does and ending at the cottage door.
A happy home in its niche under the trees
Colors so happy they dance in a breeze
And the brook laughs all the way to the sea.
The wooden bucket many years old on the ground
Outside the door filled with the spring fresh water
Each morning day for anyone needing to quench
Their thirst Inside the cottage preparing her meal.
As she watches the spring time grow
She talks to the birds with her quiet voice
Adding the rich tones of her own to
spring's mellow symphony.
The trees and the flowers know her too
As she calls each by name
Urging them to grow in beauty
Coaxing them with her voice.
Her slender body hides only the years
That developed her kindly smile
Her dark brown hair with strands of gray
Add to the maturity of her years.
The wrinkles that mark her lovely face
Deepened by her many tears
Emphasize the deep beauty of her eyes
The vastness of infinity in the beauty.
Deep inside with her lived her favorite friend to
Spend the time, A cat, who too has seen his years
His long gray hair and busy tail hide battle scars
From fighting his peers Mellowed by age he's
Made the cottage his home And through the
Years his agile body has never lost its tone.
Any visitors stopping to rest are always
Welcome here, her meal made of the best
The forest gives is shared with any who
Stay. Her lovely voice and gentle words
Leave you inebriated with love. She's not the
First to use the cottage made hundreds of
years ago, A quaint happy home under the
Trees where townspeople wouldn't go. When
she dies another will have her cottage for
their home. Unwary visitors who stop to Rest
In the little cottage in its little niche,
Later stopping in town to find she's
Called a witch




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