The Fallen Tree

The fallen tree lies still Amongst the hush of autumn morn, And dwells within a weeded tomb Upon an amber bed, The silence stirred from slumber Crunching leaves beneath my feet, When once they flickered in the breeze They now lay cold and dead. The fallen tree lies still Amongst the nettles that remain, And wrapped within an ivy shawl That's dampened by the dew, It winds around its brittle trunk And grips its winkled bark, Its leaves are shining in the sun That's slowly breaking through. The fallen tree lies still Amongst the mass of broken twigs, As beams descend through branches bare In sadness it does dwell, To light the wilting bracken On the long and winding path, That gently waves as I do pass And bids a last farewell.