A Forested Stroll
A meal fit for a king
Now resides in his stomach
As he slowly strolls through
The rows of wood.
The birds watch from their
Perch, keeping a close eye
On the dark haired man
Walking through the dense forest.
The man holds out a hand,
Carefully letting it slide over
The rough wood, smiling to himself
As he remembers when the forest
The sweet smell of it fills him
With a sense of wonderment.
The shade from the top of the
Forest keeps him cool on
This warm day.
Such a vast forest that seems to
Go on for as far as the eyes can see.
And yet it continues to grow,
The man himself being the one
To plant and expand it.
Many people people have also helped
It grow into what it is now,
But he was the one that watched,
Planted, and took care of it.
Of course, nature also helped.
As if on cue, he spots a few deer
Run away, deeper into the dense
Wood in front of him.
The birds still watched and cried
Out from time to time.
The ground beneath him was
Soft and fertile, a bit wet in places
Where the ground sprouted
New additions yet already as tall
As those around them.
The forest didn't have many visitors
Besides the lone man,
And he was happy about that.
Those that refused to visit
Could still see it from a distance away.
The man looks up as the large, black
Birds finally take flight into
The darkening evening sky.
Some of them carrying food,
Maybe for their young, thought the man.
As he watched the birds soar away,
His eyes slowly fall onto the decaying
Corpses of the bodies occupying
The wooden stakes.
Some of them dried husks,
Long dead and eaten by whatever
Could rip and tear at them.
Some still fresh, some even still
Alive, with blood staining their
Vlad slowly turns in place,
Taking in all of his holocaustic
Forest before strolling back
To his awaiting horse.