Work Text:
While I sit underneath the tree of hazel, I think about
all the days ill.
Watching them lazily graze nearby, while they're all
bound to die.
The drumming of paws and a sound of alarm, that,
surely is a charm.
They flee the scene as fast as they can, causing a
rumble in the ground,
They think it’s a plan, while they bolt and twist and
turn around,
Watching as one is already down, they use the
distraction to get away,
So they may live another day.
They feast while others wait patiently, and birds fly
above gracefully,
They dive down and try to steal, hoping to get some of
the meal.
Once they've had their fill, They leave it to rot with
many a daffodil,
Giving them the nutrients that they need, and even
more for their greed.
They grow until it’s all built up, ready to help with
another start-up,
Repeating the cycle over and over, till they all end up
on a poster,
That we all one day will pass by, never bothering to
know why,
Or how, or when, we will die,
Weather it will be peaceful, or awful, or painful,
Never thinking about the people we will leave behind,
as we bolt and twist and turn around with the rest of
mankind.