a boot hiked and a knee bent,
she thought there was more to this.
Spell cast, how long will it last?
Bare trees for a season?!
She’s fully clothed, so the trees scream, treason.
The grass is of a multi-color affair,
the same can be said of her head of hair.
Is she looking for a buried wand or broomstick?
Standing on catacombs, underneath where tombs went.
She’s got a smirk while her heel’s down in the dirt,
devising her next plot, plotting value of what it’s worth.