nudging mum for a
crafty suckle, her eldest...
now it savours
wetness, like dew...
You hear her breathe but cannot see her mouth
her lips can whistle tunes through boughs of...
I have seen lands ravaged by conflict
I have been frozen and I have been cooked...
Fallen leaves frozen
crunch beneath my walking boots...
Bush footed butterfly pleased
for spectral paradise, a bright glitters...
Trees are shedding
lifeless leaves...
Beautiful Morn(Etheree)
Dews...
Absence is the initial feeling, as I slowly turn...
left; where you once sat. The wind echoes...
The cannibalism was back.
You were eating yourself...
Trees are like windchimes
responding to the windsong...
Oh my love, how those winter winds doth blow.
Makes me yearn for those summer days again...