We’ve plucked the lonely beauty
From the garden in the skies
Azure oceans where now lies
The wealth of hands perceived as being poorest

And with the gleam that beckons
As a mist of journey’s end
Apotropaic to defend
The lullaby that gives the weary more rest

For verdant in its viewing
All the elements aligned
A golden ribbon left to bind
This life in a bouquet, and we the florist

Where shadows are retreating
Settled low as morning mist
Meeting sunlight in a tryst
As trees entangled in this blooming forest

2 thoughts on “Forest

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