Wildflowers by the road
Mark a path seldom known
Through the green, and through the wyrd
Flashing limbs, inscribed with woad

At trail's end, silence falls
As the woods unfold a hall
A dell, concealed, in the depths
Hides a secret, closely kept

Willows cry, beeches weep
Blooms blossom and sap seeps
A throne, a bed, a dais, a grave
Adorned with amber, set with jade

Moss pillows her lifeless crown
Silver rivers diadem her brow
Roots, hoary, slipper her feet
And wild fae, vigil keep

A belt of golden, shining sun
Girds her robes, of midnight spun
Flowers, twining, part her hair
Wending, winding, curling fair

Crickets lullaby her dormant form
With songs sweet of springs harshly shorn
Soft and halting, barely heard
Comes the harsh cry of a bird

With floats and faults, it filters down
To lay its caw beside her crown
Gently all the forest sings,
Praising, mourning, the fallen Queen

Yet, hush, the wild gardens sing
She merely sleeps, and only dreams