Reaching rays for years,
Lime skirt spreading, breathing the wind,
As a tutu waiting in wings,
Squirrels scampered to your crown,
Birds skipped across your arms,
And sang in your face,
You wore coats of diamonds,
Mid-winter mornings,
Standing proud, such grace,
All those days of you,
I didn’t know you were dying,
No one to hear, nothing to tell,
And didn’t hear you fall,
I was probably dancing,
Or busy on a call,
You lay this place, resting,
Gave of yourself, everything feasted,
Stripping to the beauty of you,
It was a day, Sunday, when I found you,
All is okay, you tell me,
You whispered your tales,
How you were an umbrella to the fox and her cubs,
Made cones in the rain,
And that six birds shared a nest on you,
Two larks, two rooks and a pair of nightingale,
Giving them home, despite your pain.
Lime skirt spreading, breathing the wind,
As a tutu waiting in wings,
Squirrels scampered to your crown,
Birds skipped across your arms,
And sang in your face,
You wore coats of diamonds,
Mid-winter mornings,
Standing proud, such grace,
All those days of you,
I didn’t know you were dying,
No one to hear, nothing to tell,
And didn’t hear you fall,
I was probably dancing,
Or busy on a call,
You lay this place, resting,
Gave of yourself, everything feasted,
Stripping to the beauty of you,
It was a day, Sunday, when I found you,
All is okay, you tell me,
You whispered your tales,
How you were an umbrella to the fox and her cubs,
Made cones in the rain,
And that six birds shared a nest on you,
Two larks, two rooks and a pair of nightingale,
Giving them home, despite your pain.
Reaching rays for years, Lime skirt spreading, breathing the wind, As a tutu waiting in wings, Squirrels scampered to your crown, Birds skipped across your arms, And sang in your face, You wore coats of diamonds, Mid-winter mornings, Standing proud, such grace, All those days of you, I didn’t know you were dying, No one to hear, nothing to tell, And didn’t hear you fall, I was probably dancing, Or busy on a call, You lay this place, resting, Gave of yourself, everything feasted, Stripping to the beauty of you, It was a day, Sunday, when I found you, All is okay, you tell me, You whispered your tales, How you were an umbrella to the fox and her cubs, Made cones in the rain, And that six birds shared a nest on you, Two larks, two rooks and a pair of nightingale, Giving them home, despite your pain.
