Look o’er there,
Do you
See?
For boundaries
Are
Nonexistent in this
Moment by
The dead oak
Tree.

Used to be
Magic
Here by the
Dead
Oak tree, used to
Be clothed
In rich autumn
Leaves, dressed
In the fresh moonlit
Breeze.

Nonexistent, a delusion
Amidst a lengthy
Battle of clarity
And confusion.
Is this what we
Dreamed
While we watched
The life drain
From the oak
Tree?

A skeleton against
The ******,
Wounded sky,
The brown
Leaves of
The dead oak
Tree fly
By.