When standing alone within a pasture,
fresh after winter has thawed its frosty
breath, when blades of grass become
no longer crystalized like diamond swords
that would’ve shattered underneath brick
and mortar. The serenity slowly creeps
underneath her sandals and crawls up
her ankles like ivy vines, lively cords

lapping away at the tan of her skin.
Bronze she is, a Greek goddess among
Future flora. They gather the light
and rain swimming down her stomach. No lords
have the absolute power to shatter the light
rays nor liquid that runs down her cheek.
spores float near, many come gather,
congregating to sink within the depths of her pores

That never turn life away, never
show green a way to the door.
This was her downfall. Plant-life anchors
into her metal frame and roots start to seep
within her shining tissue. Even when stems
and leaves are ripped away, the roots are never flung
away from the place they stab their poison daggers. The lords weep

For her inescapable fate. Slow as green
covers bronze, ants march to eventually peek
into her unseeing eves of amber and
chocolate swirl. Life feeds on her, she cannot sleep.
Vines give way to trees, trees leave room
for ants, which attract chameleons hued with the season.
Horned lizards, eyes flickering as fast as tongue
to lap up insects, they gather energy to leap

From arm to arm. Flora and fauna
craw upon her, but they forgot her. She pleads
to be seen by the flickering eyes,
trees, vines grass, shrubs, moss, ferns grow
from her pores till she is unrecognizable and weak.
A better fate for the only true metal mixture
would be to have a rope, strung up, hung.

 The price of her undying generosity
was costly.
Deities of love and loss grapple day and
night towards a fate none can afford at
all. She tarnished for nothing, as
green withers to brown, life lost me
in green