Dead beauty
Waiting for winds of change
Light of day
Comfort of tender rays

Fingers of fingers
Desperately grasping
Scratching at smothering grey
Beseeching fickle favour

Detritus, latent bounty
Seeping from soil
Leaves long lost spoil
Filling lungs, blood, mind

The wood snakes and writhes
Strangling and dividing
Bearing vivid green hue
Harbouring harsh truth

Morgue made art
Quater-circles, four deep
Enraptured by stone mesmer
Buried by rusted hedge

Scattered eyes of red
Unseen and unseeing
Forgotten by warmth
lost to being