I came across you amidst a sea of bluebells.
The violet hue tinting your hair and painting your nails.
blood stopping dead; hushed by the sight
of such a delicate creature reduced to no more
than a knotted rope weathered by a harsh neglecting sea.
This smell could not be yours,
no. Not you.
This smell of putrid vegetables.
But it is you.
I know it is you.
I can tell by the silver locket that hangs around your throat.
The one with the lock of auburn hair neatly folded inside.
The one that you said would bring you good luck.
Unable to stay I slowly skulk away,
quickening my pace
before the silver furred wolves smell you out and start to sob.
Danielle Gerrish
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/through-the-trees-2/
