He watches me
I can feel him
Alive, vast
Reaching out to me
He is ancient, this green man
Father of the sprites and pixies
He absorbs my breath
Taking the measure of its depth
He knows why I come here
Why I stare longingly, lovingly, a bit wistful
It's a strange story
Made of soul memories
To be a guardian of the trees
Wearing my armor of leaves dipped in pitch
Holding my spear made from stone and tree
Being connected to the network of nature
Listening to the songs of the trees
I know this was true but past
That forest man can see in my eyes
My memories of this time
So I am allowed to see hints of my past
Little reminders given as gifts
From the forest man
The guardian of the trees
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