Poetry

The whispering trees draw him
and much deeper he goes into them
until a while later he is lost
and walks up and down as if in a spider’s web.
“Is anybody here! Is anybody here,” he calls
and he listens for an answer.
“Here” echoes loudly back to him
while he feels lost and unhappy
and shouts at the top of his voice “come”
while lingering he turns round and around
and he hears “come, come” echoing loudly
he sees a pond, Echo with her palm
stretched out to him, wants to declare her love
but he is caught in the image of himself.