forust.

Forust

behind me trails the wasted days
the earth torn path along the lake
whispering leaves bundled in bouquets

your green eyes glow through the forest
dressed in vines, always modest
so how do we get out of this mess?

tree's haunt me with a knotted face,
portraits fall as the bark decays.
the branches break, then are replaced.

this year winters been one of the coldest
as hungry village folk wait for harvest,
dreams of corn so yellow they can taste it
I can taste us,
we taste like rust.