Yellow branches drifting to the shore,
You hold true in the forwards direction,
Bending ever downwards to the depths of darkness.
Your voice is shallow and short,
The breaths meaningless to all but the other,
Mirrors reflecting the sun.
Shattered windows created imperfections in a perfect line,
The glimmering colors to present true beauty once again,
Feathers fall loosely atop that soil.
Yellow the leaves dangling,
The edges blunted from your wicked shadow,
The greatness unforeseen,
Hide me in the perfection of that sunbeam.
You can’t understand the depths of sorrow,
Smooth and lucid I dreamt of me.
Bitter cold nights,
I lay down to sleep.