Flowers creek
against the pressure from
The wind,
Subtle melody
Erupting in a
Brilliant burst of
Melancholy. Seldom does the
Breeze go
Noticed. These bones
Will soon begin
To rust, laid
Placidly atop the aching
Blades of grass, soothed only
By the
Chanted promises of
A bitter tongue
Safely lodged within the moist mouth of
Godless head
Of
Thick
Tangled
Hair.
Abrupt reconciliation realigns
The spine as the
Soil remains ever
Inviting.