Ever hungry she searches
gorging upon all she finds,
and all will be found in the end
we're 75% water after all,
found to plump the skeletal forms of trees arching up into the dark,
to feed the shoots and leaves she drains
leeching through time,
a Victorian peasant here a Norse warrior there
dark characters drawn, pressed and twined into brambles.

Upon which you can catch a thread.
as a camera traps a part of you,
you didnt have to look or even notice but gripped you'll be,
flowing through lives and time she will draw and draw
and leech and leech,
till each persons a mist of swirling cotton,
longing to break chain and float free
to be drawn back into the root and tree.