Cabin in the Woods

Sitting behind a wall of trees,

I can see a hut that is covered in leaves.

It stands alone hiding well,

As I begin to hear a bell,

Moving closer I can tell,

This hut is old and will never sell.

I walk to the door as I peek inside,

Wondering why the door is so wide.

As I grab the rusty handle,

All I can smell is a burnt-out candle.

The door gradually poems screeching along the floor,

As I enter it's very core.

The inside is cold,

Sitting so empty,

As the floor creaks underfoot.

There is something cosy about this place,

Although it occupies such an odd space.

The trees around cover my shout,

As I sit in natures hideout.