Foraging

Foraging for words in the forest of the mind
but the trees are dieing, the leaves hard to find
so I sit, silence all around
all of my memories, never to be found

Harvesting the fields of lost thoughts
but all I find is empty space, a sense of loss

search for miles, just rocky ground
all those ideas forever unowned

Picking the fruits from trees of hopes and dreams
but the rot has set in, can almost hear the screams
search high and low but not a single piece is left
all the wishes unblessed

Hunting the healing daydreams, fantastic and free
the dreamer cant get to sleep, silence so beastly 

sough a seed, that will one day grow
and in time will form a new word meadow

Thanks for reading.

Peace & Love.

Kyle