Vestige

Forest vines -

earthly roots clasp 

together like hands.

Thick brown knots -

wooden barnacles

encrusted with pale lichen.

Branches tied together,

a collage of frozen umber

cloaks pasty skin.

Eyes reflect

the sun's gleaming rays -

chiseled emeralds within.

Those vines so tight -

long cappuccino stains 

poured over arms and legs.

Rain envelops her body,

a violent tirade of grey.

Leaves stick 

like glued paper -

her only time alone.

Esophagus packed with moss,

she is becoming 

plant.