Inner
Phantom fir trees Draped in moss and dew Reach out their Flailing arms into The ambient and moving air, In a daft attempt At solitaire. They whisper and they Sing the breeze, A melody only Sung by trees, While their many fingered Branches fight To reach the fading, Phantom light. Leaves toss and scatter In the rush That winds its breath Through old sedge brush, And sends the buck To frenzied flight, To dissapear into the night. The Ivy sways Within the tide, And the Ghostwood Trembles side by... Sign in to see full entry.