Mr And Mrs Compost

Succulent, ready to be twisted off
The leaves are warm and the stones are hot
The distant houses seem to melt with
The vast open glowing air
The almost steaming ragged wood of the
Oak trunks and the sweating walk
The ease of the wagging boughs
Layering wavering shadows
A story tells me that there is a couple there
Buried 'neath the twisted roots
Older than the tree it'self
Older than the ruined farm
They lived there in the wooden days
When hands were tougher than a plough
And will was stronger than the
Rafters of a house
I also heard their dog is there
Their bones are tangled in that tree
Side by side and holding hands
And that's the reason why
That tree is beautiful