the path is twisting and turning
amidst the spruce and pine
birds that used to be a-singing
just sit in a morbid silent line
in the silence
the woods are filled with eerie lullabies

from the corner of their eyes, a vision so inviting
she looks behind her at the breadcrumbs on their path
he, gently grasp her hand, her gaze switches to him, he smiles so gently
while around them the trees their shadows cast
while in silence
the woods are filled with eerie lullabies

they walk, hand in hand, determined
to find, a way to leave these woods
a sudden smell of pine wood burning
from a chimney, fills their lungs
and still
the woods are filled with eerie lullabies

within them hope, as they walk towards the scent
a clearing opens to promised places
a cottage, covered in vines there stands
relief wash over their faces
but
the woods are filled with eerie lullabies

the welcoming sight draws them in
like hungry children for want of candy
sometimes when the lost find sanctuary
the more lost they will become…
and now…
the woods are filled with eerie goodbyes

a hag opens the door, and old pangs of hunger stirs within her
dreams of longpig dressed in rosemary and sage
the two look at her, they see a nice old lady
(but kuru-shot eyes and liver-spots reveal her ancient age)
and still
the woods whispers softly, eerie goodbyes

they entered her lair and were fed
but secretly (the hag doctored their bread)
they found themselves suddenly numb
and…

the tale is best not to further dwell on
their screams were heard, that is all
a warning to you is all I can say
when lost, trust put in a stranger
may end in hell to pay
heed the words of my twisted lullaby

(c) 2017 allen wolfie simpson

Inspired by the legends of Jenny Greenteeth, Baba Yaga and the tale of Hansel and Gretchen. The spooky classics always teach us something, doesn’t it?

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