A Lone Tree Sits

Upon the green, behind the Church

The ancient Yew sits quietly

To keep you in an earthy bind

A constant, dark but warm embrace.


I lost you to the heady depths

The arching vaults of greying past

But here, reborn, you breathe again

Upon my face, through balmy wind

Whilst sat beneath that lonesome Yew

That keeps my dearest company. 

The End

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