The remains of weary waifs forlorn,
Lay scattered across daisy meadows.
Burnished bones with garments torn,
Intertwined with sunlit billows.

Through the skulls a zephyr whistles,
Quivering the efflorescent verdancy,
Swaying every blossomed bristle,
As the early sun gleamed fervently.

Light reflects upon those perished,
Illuminating bygone, derelict graves.
Neither ****** nor at all cherished,
They repose in obscure haze.

Resting in a vanished empyrean,
Clouded and embraced by flora,
Blooming different shades of green,
Around the skulls it casts an aura.

Caressed by gleams of moonlit nights,
Brushed by sunrise upon morning.
Shone upon by hallowed lights,
In death the bones recline aborning.

So shunned, forsaken upon birth,
Adopted warmly by their Death.
With him they putrefy in mirth,
Sipping the ethereal waters of Lethe.