The Cave


Down by the lake in the old oak wood

A cave, hiding from the light of day

Constant in summer and winter rain

Warm, dark and secure


Secret ivy covers the entrance

You wish to part the leaves but do not dare

For the bones that now lie scattered around

Show that something lives here


You think that, maybe, it is a wolf

But none have been sighted for years

And a dog would have buried them, anyhow

Then what sort of beast is hunting deer?


The fire on the stone is burning slow

You face the other face across the flame

As if the years roll back, you are at home

Here, at home in the cave

The Cave.doc
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