Walking Through the Woods

By: Eric Trinh


The wind whistling through the trees,

blowing me toward the ground.

Twisting, turning, and tumbling,

slowly going down.

I can feel i’m reaching near death.

Remembering I was born greener than every tree in the forest,

turning brown as the ground itself.

I’m trying to reach the air again,

so it can blow me to anywhere I desire.

That is only a dream now.

Reaching near death,

I’m slowly starting to lose sight.

I suddenly hear the wind again.

This wind doesn’t sound the same as before.


As I hear the sound coming closer,

it pushed me vigorously on top of others.

Everyone gets pushed into a bag that has the darkest of a black hole.

Now I can finally rest.

The wind is only a dream again.