In Winter the forests
Are cold and foreboding
With long, jagged branches
To pierce through our flesh
The trees are sharp teeth
Or stakes to display
Those Vlad the Impaler
Met on holiday
A Poetic Dive into the Creative Unconscious
In Winter the forests
Are cold and foreboding
With long, jagged branches
To pierce through our flesh
The trees are sharp teeth
Or stakes to display
Those Vlad the Impaler
Met on holiday