Yellow branches drifting to the shore,
You hold true in the forwards direction,
Bending ever downwards to the depth of darkness.
Your voice is shallow and short,
The breaths meaningless to all but the other,
Mirrors reflect the sun.
Shattered windows create imperfections in a perfect line,
The glimmering colors to present beauty once again,
The feathers did fall loosely atop the soil.
Yellow the leaves dangle,
A tree,
Of life.
The edges are blunt with your wicked shadows,
The greatness unforeseen,
Hide me in the perfection of a sunbeam.
Undivided,
You shall not understand the depths of sorrow,
Smooth and lucid I dream of me.