Black trees swaying in the wind
Cold darkness surrounds
Though shiver is absent
Pressure differentials bellow for the trees
The forest is a chorus
Singing a cluster chord
Like a mirror-eyed girl laying on all the keys
The pipes sing, every chord being played
One pipe, one note, is missing
She
stares into your
eyes
(although you could never tell)
Only to offer an image of yourself
Howling with the black trees
Silently
A last breath exchanged with metabolized air
Death taps the veins in your throat
Vanity mixed with survival