I don’t fear the woods at night. The trees mean me no harm.

The fallen leaves are resting now, adding to the charm.

The squirrels have all gone to bed, sleeping safe and sound.

Owls are watchful of these woods when the night comes round.

They watch the only thing to fear, standing deep inside.

That things is me creeping by, staying off the path to hide.

So if you’re out here very late, do not be afraid.

I promise I won’t bother you lest off the path you strayed.


For more poems by Cynthia Seer, click here.

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