My forest of dead Birches

My forest of dead Birches

What a sight that was to see

A symbol of the never coulds

A symbol of the never was

The failed dreams and the lost hopes

All hang around those trees.

There they stood with their branches bare

Feeble roots clinging to the ground.

No blistering bark

No seeds to share

No song birds

No Faery

Just a very sad lot

My plot of rotting trees.

Perhaps it was the drought

Perhaps it was just me.

Perhaps it was an omen

That my fairy garden was not meant to be.


It was not the season

Nor was it the year

It was not the rotting soil

Or our polluted air

The lack of water

Or even a lack of care

No, it was the failed magic

A loss of faith that was not there.

Do you not see?

I lost not one or two or three

I was robbed of the entire lot.

Thirteen of them stood there

Broken, rotten, bare.

My forest of favourite trees.

My forest of death.

My forest of Birches diseased.

Trees contaminated

Like the sickness of my Heart.

It is my mind that fails my body

My Soul who pays the price.

It is the pills that keep me going

The pills that help me fake

But at the source of the rotting tree

Are roots you can pull at with a rake.

I did not know it then, but I understand it now.

My forest of dead Birches was all that was left of me.

Now the birches are gone.

And so are you.

Time to plant something new

And hope that it will grow.

Time to seed new thoughts

And plant those in your place.

Time for me to leave this garden

And join the human race…