Woeful are the twisted spines
Beauty are the twisted pines
the likeness of these knotted twines
is comic in my mind's eye
but they still cry

Both took many moons to ravel
One will stay and one will travel
Until the stones turn into gravel
Until one lies down to die
The other still grasping for sky
the likeness of these knotted twines
is comic in my mind's eyes
but they still cry
for the twisted.