She'd scurried through the little gate Late in autumn when her tree was bare The taut bark between her teeth The pock beneath her tiny paws Standing defiant and proud
She drunk too many times at The Devil’s Disciple, her music And fire extinguished. So desperate to be a star But could only be herself So settled in the sky, never dying, Never changing
They would not allow these eyes to see her burn My youth demanding reticence and tact But from my bedroom window there did turn The scent of lavender to choking ash
It’s not far from the bottom Of your garden but still I will not visit until You tidy up a bit Of space. Once, I was out There in the summer, The leaves all burnt A path towards which