The tall trees swayed

Swayed like the wind

The whistle blew

While the birds flew

 

The grass at my knees

The itch is immense

Like the forests, so dense

The soil as brown as the bark

 

In the heart of oblivion

For the foreseeable future

No home

No water 

No feed

 

I have been left

After my theft

My theft of family

And love

And hope