Do you walk
wreathed in leaves?
Holly, Juniper, and Yew
upon your shoulders
A spectre of the forest
though your dress is fit
for royalty or worse
this dirt will hold
hold your soft footfalls
a siren hunting prey
why don't you stay?
the earth welcomes all
all miscreants
and lovers with smiles
the cavalry
and princesses alike
but you
you were misjudged
you are a gardener
one who looses soil
just to plant a solid oak
and the heart of the forest
shall always welcome you