The Hollow

In the darkness of the forest,

Where you’ve never been before,

There’s a hollow in an ancient tree

That looks just like a door.

And you swear you hear it calling you,

The voice is high and thin,

And it’s beckoning and tempting you,

Come in, dear child, come in.

And there’s nobody around you,

Not a creature in the wood,

And you step a little closer,

And you start to feel so good.

And your worries fade to stardust,

And your cares disperse with ease,

As you melt a little deeper

In the shadows, in the trees.

And the hollow doesn’t judge you,

And the hollow doesn’t fear,

And you long to join the hollow,

And you long to disappear.

And the voice keeps calling high and thin,

Yet somehow soft and low,

And the tree grows ever closer,

As you feel yourself let go.

Then the crackle of a nearby branch,

And, ah, the spell is broken.

And you shake yourself and rub your eyes

As though you’ve just awoken.

And the hollow sits in silence,

And it calls to you no more

As you turn and slowly walk away

Across the forest floor.

But you steal a backward glance and feel

A twinge of loss and sorrow.

And you know, despite yourself,

That you’ll be back again tomorrow.