Woods - Johanna Warren

Lost in the woods

With every step I took

I felt you there with me

I raised your kiss

To my thirsty lips

And laughed as it ran down my throat

I’ll never forget

The Payne’s grey day we met

A dove with a bell in its beak

A strange, ancient song

That blossomed on my tongue

Led me to a hidden stream

A cold, fickle breeze

Knocked me to my knees

And the salt on my skin turned to smoke

But the memory still lingers

In the valleys of my fingers

A cut paper bird, a broken bell

So I raised my hood

And walked into the woods

To gather flowers in a basket to bring home

To gather flowers in a basket to bring home