We’ve all experienced it I guess, that feeling that we’ve been somewhere or heard something before, but know full well that there is no way we could have. Or perhaps I just spend too much time alone in the woods. You will have to decide.
Déjá vu
Leaves are rustling overhead,
caressed by gentle breeze.
Whispers born of unseen breath
are calling down to me.
Although I try to listen
I can’t quite catch the words.
a message from a misty past,
remains, remote, unheard.
In dappled shadows of my mind
forgotten feelings grow.
Some lost association
from a time I could not know.
Beyond my understanding,
yet I know it in my bones,
that this is not the first time
I have heard these ancient tones.
The sultry summer sun is warm
but now my blood runs chill
and shivers trickle down my spine.
The woodland grows quite still.
Aware that I am being watched
by eyes that are not there.
I search among the undergrowth
and seek that icy stare.
But I am standing here alone
around me only trees.
Surrounded just by silence
and a presence I can’t please.
At last the birds begin to sing,
once more I start to breathe.
That haunting voice is quiet now,
I quickly take my leave.
Tags: Creative writing, Odd Odes, Poems, Poetry, Writing
