Narritive Poem (lesson don't take my air jordens)

I always think of thoes trees.

Their light.

How it filtered through the leaves
and cast shadows on the pine needle strun
ground.

I always think of walking through
thoes woods.

I will always remember when I came back.


I am at the top of the hill,
the path goes no further.

So why do I find mself
climbing higher.
Up,
up
and
up.

No longer on the woods.

On a large flat rock.

This is what I remeber.

The rock was its own
woods.

Birch and pine trees
thin from such litte
air
grew.

Their shadows destorted
against
jagged
boulders.

I am close
to the sun.
So why do I feel so far away?

I know that by now
they will be looking
for me.

Wondering where I
have gone.

I will lie
be selfish and
keep this
place.

Its tree's,
shadow's,
rock's,
and
pine needle's
to myself.