And like that

The wood had snapped,

Making lines beneath our feet,

Separate like the bark and the dog.

We found ourselves climbing these

Silhouetted ladders made of dirt,

Grown to prosper in the sun,

Then laid upon the loam,

(which now we call our home).

While the tears fed more deathtraps,

We lie still within,

Listening to the silence of the wood,

which now surrounds us.