We Will Wait
- Autumn Grace
- Aug 8
- 2 min read
Now I see what grown ups saw then.
Some plants and leaves and sticks and stones,
The broken glass and rusty tin,
The things that made our fort a home.
“We’re safe and snug in here,” we said.
“Adults are banned; our fort’s too tight.”
The leaves hang low and brush my head,
And what has happened to my height?
The trees hold secrets; I know they do.
But what they are, I can’t recall.
The trees aren't friendly, and the roots
Aren’t stairs. They’re out to make me fall.
“Go away,” the bushes mutter,
“We want those little children back.
Here and there, we hear a scutter,
But we want all those children back.”
“They’ve gone away and left us bare,
We grow too fast; their trails are faint.
Grown up, if you see them elsewhere,
Tell them we’re here, and we will wait.”
“But I am here, and it was me!
I played in here and built those trails.
That was my room! My walls were trees,
I wrote in here. I spun my tales.
“See! My bottles cracked and broken.
Ah, you know! How could you forget?
And how long since you’ve awoken,
To play with us, for just a bit?
"We roamed these woods in rain and sun,
And with our swords that forged the way,
Our wars were fought and they were won,
Every time we all went to play.”
I reached the end and bit my tongue,
And waited for the woods’ response.
“No. All those people here were young,
Who traipsed about our sacred haunts.
"They’ve gone away and left us bare,
We grow too fast; their trails are faint.
Grown up, if you see them elsewhere,
Tell them we’re here and we will wait.”
“But it was me! Why don’t you see?
You woods are old. You don’t forget!
And I’ve played with you, every tree.
It’s been quite some time, but we’ve met.”
But they breathed again, soft as air,
“You don’t understand; we will wait.
If you do see them anywhere,
Grown up, tell them we’ll always wait.”
Tell me what you think.
Can you relate? And did you grow up playing in the woods?
I'd love to see your answer!
God bless,
Autumn Grace
Ahhhh... What a lovely, lovely poem, you make me remember what a delightful playground the forest always was... And I think I partly aline with it, though on the other side of it, they still do feel like home to me😄
"reminds herself of what she actually came to say, before Yesterday captured her attention..."
Oh yes! Actually, I was just popping by to let you know that I've tagged you for the Summer Sunbeams tag...
https://juliettederouledewrites.blogspot.com/2025/08/chasing-summer-sunbeams-summer-blog-tag.html?m=1
I definitely relate! My siblings and I always played on a hill across our street, and built lots of forts and trails. Your poem was so sweet and yet so sad - it was very well done. Great job, Autumn!
I did grow up in the woods, building forts...I can definitely relate. It's been a year or two since I visited our old forts. From time to time I would visit them, clean things up a bit. In a way, they still have their charm, because I remember my point of view when I was a wee tyke puttering about up there. But at the same time, there is absolutely that melancholy off feeling about it all...
I LOVE this! It reminds me of how I felt when returning as an adult to my favorite elementary school, which I wrote about in one of my blogs. https://cjoywarner.wixsite.com/corner/post/old-school We also had a "fort" in the woods behind the church when I was little, and when I went back as an adult, I puzzled even to find it or to find what I "saw" in that jumble of overgrowth. It was ugly and had lost its mystery, although you make somewhat the opposite point. I could feel what was going on in your poem, and I could also feel the tug of the undercurrent--that intuitive meaning that changes as we grow. I also love your font!
Great poem. I remember going into the woods to play when I was younger too! Well done! It is also kind of depressing though.