Lilies gripping slices of the sky
In their honeyed fingers.
The moon-eyed trees shedding their skin
The dented stone ravaged by vines
Leaves clutching the wind, loosely,
quivering against each other.
Hearts throb with the wind,
The owners of these hearts,
Do not think of them as
They clamber up the rigid branches
And contemplate the glassy rain
Faded smiles trembling
In the shadows
And frothy mud
A gust of wind
And sticks, unforgiving, to the wet soil