Them Woods

The moonlight hit the elder elms just right
Many rays hitting the outstretched limbs in a cascade of vilolent delight
Serenity becomes this ancient wood
In a place where malice and contempt dare stood
Amongst the echos of these headstrong trees
A cruel truth whispered upon the stirring breeze
Of death and that of odd whimpering
The bastard buried that simple thing with the sordid simpering of a king