Intervals depicted by woefully
stark sights.
Tombstone branches drape
over the division
of essence.
That now clings to the earth,
moved on by the breath around.
I see them grazing in the air,
a corpse of what was warm.
Now showing the frigidness
of what is upon us.
Mourning the beauty of what was,
and I look up at the tombstone
branches in reverence.
Awaiting the time when life wavers
above me once again.
And then I will smile, for now,
I slumber within my
stark contemplations.