As I saw her

He never understood the madness that so prevailed her
The mangled twisted branches that entwined, bare but for spring
Ancient secrets that howled between gaping holes
There was beauty from a distance
In the seemingly still, quiet nature of her demeanor
But to hold brought thorns
No, not a rose
There was the scent, sweet, that floated to the distance
With the sights so many longed for, but they could not know
She lived beyond reason, in the squalls of yet another world
Where she delved to linger, crossing branch upon branch, mind bent

"My Sweet Saint"

(Anna's corner of the world)

By dense ivy that does not shimmy, but curls the branchless tree
And the lush filled canopy, green with leaves
And the sky that does peek through, evermore deep cerulean blue
And by the beaten path, to the door no more
To the shack where I lay my head, not in dread
Where memories weather, fair this day
Behind planks that are touched by olden gray,
Harboring miniscule secrets that long to say, we live
And they do, in my eyes that revel in this time
In a corner of the world that seems sublime
Not marsh, but dry, lush vegetation, particular to this place
And it draws me fanciful, where I long to touch upon more
To the secrets deep within summer foliage, and those trees
Whose bark speaks, scarred by etched names
Tempered by rain and years
Though, one remains, “My Sweet Saint”