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