The pink spills over and curses your skin,
The white splatters on and speckles off,
But the green holds strong.

Like a child's hand, your gentle touch holds tight to my being.

Broken and bent
Fallen and free
You lay there still
have fallen for me?

Accidental incidents.
Don’t they always end up well?
Maybe you are gods creation,
God after all is a tradie named Tim.

Colour this bright doesn't need a spotlight
Colourful fingers that entwine with mine
I am unable to leave you.
Trapped in your fallen branches.
Like a maze, you send me spinning round in circles.

Coarse to touch your thin skin is broken.
Fragile.
Soft and light.
Floating, dancing.
You land upon the ground.
A new life has been imposed upon you.

The pink spills over and curses your skin,
The white splatters on and speckles off,
But the green holds strong.