Burn Down
All these places I have found
Deep roots in the northern ground
Only ghosts know their name
They haunt the woods from where they came
Warm sun
Shining through the winter months
Flowing streams, tree trunks
With bored holes right through
Tall trees once grew
It's all gonna fall away
One of these days
Grooves, diamond shapes
Colored in grey
But all that bends does not break
When all the grain
Runs straight
Life line
Baskets covered in cobwebs
Paddles rotting in their sheds
Tall tales, soon to be
Memories of the ash tree
