...
I remember:
waiting patiently
with whispered prayers
of melancholy devotion
to an ideal arrangement
that stings the festering sore
rotting the seeds of vitality
in shades of autumnal silence
like the gently creaking bows
of the birch-wood temples
with pediments stripped vacant
of organic statuaries,
and blooming busts
carved in the likeness
of photosynthetic mythos
by an unrelenting assailant
that sleeps within sadness,
absconds from the empirical,
and hides beneath the disguise
inseparable from flesh
I remember:
that strangely accurate observation
unearthed in desperate times
while strolling aimlessly
amongst the saddened groves
willowly sepulchres of memory
their gnarled frowns reveal
distant cousins in evolution
spiritually entangled
by fated juxtaposition
...