The Wandering Dryad

Tue, 11/29/2016 - 20:59 -- 1357281

I met a dryad

Who came and went as he pleased

Through the forest, through the grasses, through the trees.

 

I slowly got to know him

Because he seldom talked. As a dryad,

He mostly drifted solemnly in the breeze.

 

My favorite times were when we could sit or stand or walk

And enjoy each other’s company without

Twittering birds or buzzing insects bothering either of us.

We didn’t have to talk. No, not always.

Because dryads are mostly quiet. They like to listen to music they find.

And this dryad shared his with me.

 

But now the dryad is vanished.

Where is the wandering dryad?

My friend who liked a good story or song?

He has wandered. He has grown past me and wandered on.

 

So now I must hurry and grow up

To catch up with the wandering dryad

Because I know we’ll meet again.

When? Who knows? My friend comes and goes as he pleases.

But when we’ve both grown a little more

I know I’ll see my friend, the wandering dryad, again.

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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