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.
No
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…