The Playhouse

A Poem By Arya Animarus // 3/28/2017

Deep in the woods,
There’s a little wooden house,
And nobody lives there, but dreams.
And the laughter of childhood,
Floats on the breeze,
And splashes through crystal streams.

Find me beneath the old maple,
Let’s fight a few monsters today,
And return to the hall,
When the quest finally ends,
And we’ll sit with a fire ablaze.
Knowing well that we have
Something fleeting and sad,
That we’ll hold for as long as we can.
As long as we can.

Comments

This is a really lovely poem,

This is a really lovely poem, with a charming topic and word usage that evokes a sort of dream-like quality. I like it. : )

Hannah D. | Thu, 05/11/2017

"Reason itself is a matter of faith. It is an act of faith to assert that our thoughts have any relation to reality at all." - G. K. Chesterton

I like this. :) post more

I like this. :) post more soon, please.

Damaris Ann | Fri, 10/20/2017

My thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.
‭‭Isaiah‬ ‭55:8-9‬

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