Forest

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