A tightly twisted knot of darkness
Hides the reason deep by earth
Roots that feed from tearful seasons
Overflowing Well of dirth
Moonrise draws the sap of sorrow
Moon ebb wanes yet sorrow grows
Habitually the tree remains
A Hedgewytch of the old hedgerow
Bitter sweet to fruit from blossom
Better left to rot unknown
On branches thrown in poise of torment
Shadows cast its tale of woe.
