Martin’s Winding

Up ahead along the country road,
Thru’ the clearing of Maple’s abode,
Where the winding around a certain bend
Becomes my winding, my forestial friend.
Though it’s someone else’s, it’s also mine.
When I pass by, the forests rhyme.
The trees stand proud for my passing by as
The road glimmers from the inconsistent sky.
Then my trees bid me adieu at my final bend
As Martin’s Winding becomes theirs again.

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