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A Short Cut

I decided to walk home from the pub through Booth’s wood,
it only took half the time the winding road would.
A minute or so into the wood a fusty smell filled the air
and a ground mist seemed to cover everywhere.

This path I’d walked many times and never noticed this before,
it was very eyrie with no breeze to disturb the mist at all.
I came across a clearing where the trees were further apart,
for no reason a thumping was echoing from my heart.

I stopped and looked all around, just to satisfy my curiosity
when towards me came a cloud of a green luminosity.
It came from within the wood, which was difficult to believe,
but then a purple cloud formed from behind a fallen tree.

Now I was really getting anxious, as I put a sprint into my pace,
then another cloud, a yellow one was heading towards my face.
The thought of going back from where I came entered my mind
so I turned around, but the clouds were in front and behind.

They weren’t in a hurry, but they were slowly closing in,
a blue cloud joined the others, this defied logic and reasoning.
I became overwhelmed and mesmeric, so I had to stand and wait
and let the four clouds surround me, on them rested my fate.

The four clouds enveloped me, as they swirled and mixed into one,
I breathed in their moisture and felt compelled to walk on.
I didn’t know where I was going; I was blinded by the cloud,
but they formed an alley, so I walked within the shroud.

It swirled again together and then separated just as they came,
and departed in four directions, and never came back again.
They had left me standing on the edge of a cliff’s precipice,
which to my local knowledge, until then didn’t exist.

Looking over the edge I could see a crashed aeroplane below,
it must have lost its bearings and navigated to low.
There was nothing I could do, but tomorrow I would return again
and climb down the rock face to inspect the aeroplane.

Early the next morning I descended and found five bodies inside,
a dog, two adults and two children, they died side by side.
The police went to investigate when I reported the crashed plane,
it had crashed in a magnetic storm of swirling cloud and rain.

poem by Orlando Belo
Added by Poetry Lover
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