By Luz Rojo

It was a man who entered in the forest on that day, although it was forbidden there, a buck he planned to slay.

Trees ancient, high with mighty boughs embraced him to their breast, and like a child he wandered through, a small, unwelcome guest.

Soon the yearling nigh he spied (he'd thought it had been older!) and deeper in the thatch he stride. The world around grew colder.

And there a glen of great enchant soon feel upon his eye, "How this reminds me of my youth," he thought with mournful sigh.

A crystal pool, lay shimmering beneath a golden sun, how it implored he take a swim, as when a boy he'd done.

His clothing set beside the shore he felt a beckoning, and into waters sweet and warm he slid past reckoning.

Floating in a cloudless sky his mind and body drift, the years between the child and him become a closing rift.

"You've been a very naughty lad," came voices on the wind. "You've come with killing on your mind, we cannot have such things."

Suckled as an infant in the bosom of the lake the man grew ever younger, as his years the waters take.

"You thought yourself a mighty man," the words were in his head, "but now you shall forget about that life that you have lead."

And as a fear rose up in him, he quickly left behind, his thoughts of all his manly things, they vanished from his mind.

In panic fled the naked teen, while growing yet still younger, and running as a frightened boy, for manhood did he hunger.

"I'll be good," he pleaded to the voices of the glen, "Please," he cried, a little pout, "Don't make me small again!"

"For good boys we do good things," sang back to him the voices, "But you must grow again to be a man of wiser choices."

It was a child who wandered from the forest late that night, and it was clear to everyone he'd suffered quite a fright.

And as the pretty, little boy, ran naked from the wood, he promised every passerby that this time he'd be good.