Stale Tracks

Little red lies, dead
In the menacing woods
The unending path seem narrowed.
I yearn for fresh air

The sun roasts my mind
In the heat of the summer
I swelter, parched for inducement

A fresh flower plucked
Ripe and luminous at seventeen
A queen no longer dancing
sixteen no longer sweet

My teeth are long
Hair grey, grey, greying
weak knees, chipped, yellowing teeth
The lustre fades
It is evanescence at its finest

Milk tooth slices of moonlight
Creep though the swaying curtain
It haunts my sleep, left
Behind, left
Behind;