Capillary Forest
In this capillary forest,
behind the foggy bushes away from seas,
something that was once sun kissed,
now lies shriveled amongst the trees.
Let it know it will be missed,
for it lies without partner or friend,
deformed, diseased and disheartened,
maroon rivers now descend.
Still it beats like an old wristwatch,
tired of its own façade of sound,
aged like an old Irish scotch,
a game of hiding where your never found.
Through the storms and rainy nights,
lies curled up and without a fight,
collects rainwater and winter’s frost,
no love given, no love lost.
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