There were stone stairs, unexpected

Right there in the middle of the park

They were beautiful, with carved banisters

Leading down into a glade of sorts

Dark trees rose on either side of the path

Shutting out the sun

The track quickly vanishing in the gloom

No sound

No birds, animals, not even wind

Following the path into the mystery

Inexplicably tracking through primeval forest

Forced to stay on the path because there is no other way

It’s like in the old tales

Don’t leave the path

Bad things will happen

Why did I come here? I want to go home

But the stone stairs are gone in the dark

And the only way out is forward

Author’s note: when I was quite young, I was staying at a caravan park with my family. I remember seeing this, the stairs, the dark trees, the lack of light. I never went down because to six-year-old me it looked really spooky. Looking back, I do wonder if I have embroidered the original memory, or even dreamed the whole thing, because it doesn’t seem to make any sense.  It seemed like a good topic for a poem, though.