If ever you find me on an autumn day
hidden under amber foliage,
lying beside brushwood,
know I am at peace.
My fingers dig the soil
and root me to the Earth.
My hair turns to moss,
my clothes become bark,
and I dream for ever.
In my world I walk with
winged boots and swim
in silver oceans; I sing with the
wind. Ichor runs through me.
I will open my eyes a final time,
a tear quivers loose, and take in your image.
Carve your name on my bark,
walk away and let dimples
grow on your cheeks.
And you will forget me,
through nepenthe or time.
But I will be waiting until
you decide to join me,
until you, too, hide under
amber foliage.
shepherdsbush64
Grand depiction of death, thats how I want to go.