The Losing Of Inncence Poem by Bryan Sefton

Up there, somewhere up ahead
Where the track enters the trees
Berries bigger than my thumb
Entwine the bushes. Squeeze
Them and the juices run
And drip like blood upon the tongue

Up ahead, not far now
There's a quiet sleepy place
Where we can rest. The canopy
Of leaves combine to shade your face
There the sences, running free
Sing in peaceful harmony

Further on, we'll hear it soon
The winsome chuckling of a stream
Fills your head with fantasies
And everything's as if a dream
has taken over. Here a breeze
Teases whispers from the trees

Up there, somewhere up ahead
Where the track exits the trees
And runs to all that is to come
I feel a strange unease
As if, by just my moving on
On looking back all will be gone