There it lay, along the culvert,
With freshness void and colours exempt, as
It shared kindred with the rot of elder brethren.

A time there was, when high and green
Of life it brimmed, to surpass the waltzes in the wind.

Drained of life and emptied of spirits,
It fell onto grounds unknown, as dirt lessened in reach.

Teased of colour by weeds and grass,
It lost hope and laid there, twisted in days of months;

No longer soft, it crumbled and pieces neighboured its none.
Caught in the wind, each piece found a way anew,
Till all that remained were the weeds and the grass…