Once a tree, now leaves of a burning poem in haze of age does roam
Words of smoke carry on the breeze a brightening light for distant trees
Ashes tread over by the masses stick to their shoes as molasses
Carried far from its place of birth, smell of rhyme dropped on the earth
Now inky bits hard to find spread through nature\'s open mind
When at home shoes remove, worded pieces fall from each sole\'s groove
Soot swept out the door but not before it leaves marks on the floor