The Sky that Falls by Deniz Besim - HTML preview

The Woods

I walk through the forests, the crackling twig,

Dark and scary, I fall over a log,

Dense woods, I see nothing else but blurred fog,

Hungry, off the branch I pick out a fig,

Tasty, and filled me up, it was quite big.

Further off, I hear the bark of a dog,

Even closer away, I see a hog.

Over rivers, I'll have to craft a rig,

Even while the skies and the rain does drip,

A little help at this time would be nice,

Cannot craft the mast well, neither its grip,

I tried again and again; once, twice, thrice,

Raft is now ready for the river trip.

In the white, cloudy skies; down falls the rice.