immortal

Flowers do they have ghosts?-when will it reach Heaven’s ground blood death drew with a ghostly Thorn. Songs are interwound, rook and robin watch And mourn at the passing of a fruit tree. I stole a rose from the grave next to my Lovers, the moon peels the night away death shaves Me with his knife-he whisper’s his alibi, It was not him-the sun and moon are thieves Weaving frail narratives, my love did not Leave she will shake a spectral tree releasing The fruit making it fall for eternity, brought To heaven’s tree by dead relatives waiting For earthly rain to resurrect the trunk And shrivelled roots to make an eternal link.