There I sat upon the soil

Remembering the leaves of Lorien.

They did fall unto the toil

And took the worries with them then.

I smiled as recalling the sweet woody mist

Which etched into my being

And opened my eyes to the wooden fist

In the land which had no king.

Frozen, rotted, cut down, torn

Are the leaves of Lorien

Lost and forgotten, faded and worn

Forever beyond the reach of men.