The hissing woods ( from the strenger's diary).

The snapping brush and head swelling, making

it hard to prolong. Cold sweat, dazing eyes,

twilight zone drew close the edge. Where is

the barrier, hellish frantic cried strolling through

the hissing woods.

One by one, and one by one, tries drops, water

the grasses where I stood. The whole turning swan,

mucky, and dirty. This peptic mess and there the

hissing woods, is someone there? oh bye!

The hissing woods, what psalms drew near now to

console the traveler?. This the replied. Through I

walked thought the valleys of the shadow of

death, fear no evil child, fear no evil now. The

hissing woods.

That is my take today on this lovely poem by your truly.There is certainly hope to live by.


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