When you walk so slowly
Down the centre of the road,
Our reaching arms
And planetary hands
And ghostly fingers
Are just short
Of bridging the gap.

We cannot breach
The path, you see.
The Forest, dark,
Is prison to me.

The longest ones
Are nearly there;
The shortest ones
Wail, "It's not fair!"

With nails of iron
And flesh of stone,
We brush your clothes,
Lament, and moan.

Our cries are faint;
You're occupied
With looking 'round
and left and right.

You think to yourself:
How curious indeed!
That the sun ca'n't touch
Where the darkness breeds.

The light is like
A thunder cloud,
A storm above
The night's compound.

You smooth your dress,
As blue's the sky,
And say out loud,
"Do you know why

The people here
Are strange as this?"
You answer yourself,
"Oh, I do not, Miss."

And we,
Oh, we!
The reaching souls,
The moaning things
That darkness knows:

We, oh we,
Of the Forest deep,
We are they
Who grieve and weep.


I never imagined myself writing fanfiction for something like Alice in Wonderland. Something so classic and untouchable. But maybe you might think of this as more of a "tribute to" or a "comtemplation of" rather than a continuation.

The idea for this poem was conceived on a long bike ride.

Many thanks (and apologies) to author Brighter than sunflowers (who writes such beautiful things, you should know) for I still have her copy of Annotated Alice, and I am enjoying it very much. Thanks again for letting me borrow it; I'll have it back to you in no time. (Swear on me mum.)