His backwards fall
Stopped
At a wall that appeared too soon…

The woods are haunted, they say
In the pleasant town
Of smiles for strangers and niceties for neighbours…

They buried us in their murky cemetery
Of buds crushed and shells empty…

This spacious property
Overlooks the river
That embraces trees of either side…

Perhaps you’re right
That the flight I dreamt
Was not the freedom I sought…