poor elizabeth is cold
in a winter's day landscape
with fleeting clouds
and a drizzle
that leaches into your bones
poor elizabeth lies deep beneath the soil
in a churchyard
somewhere in England
her headstone black with lichen
poor elizabeth is a shadowy glance
in a frosted puddle
of
time
poor elizabeth is a loose ball of hay
or a cast of stickes
stranded in the road
poor elizabeth is cold
in a winter's day landscape
and she is dissolving
before our eyes
