Hard Reality

In a wood that's lush and deep and green I sat, Looking at a path that leads from left to right. A single lonely figure that was I, and here the fog Was moist and warm and white. Beneath her dress the hem was cold the ice Around her bush. The leaves were gone and none were green or even Brown that could be by us seen. It once was grassy green the water flowed but now is stilled. Both day and night and mornings mist, The evenings equaled stayed until the moon Rose high and full. Two paths lay here in the past, a book that's Read by all.