• Ancient trees groan and ache with the wind
    Long have their roots been embedded,
    The leaves rustle along lifelessly
    As if tired from an ancient ritual each winter,
    Their colors dull, brown, grey, deathly pale.

    She walks along the stone path
    intertwined with weeds, abandoned and forgotten.
    Long brown hair sways as she walks,
    gazing up into the bleary sky,
    as tears when welled up blurs vision.

    She walks up to the mansion,
    left alone and untended.
    As she opens the door the leaves bustle in.
    She leaves her heart and dreams outside.