There is a ghost under the old oak tree,

dreaming of a past life when he roamed free

 

Confined to this place now where he loved and toiled,

still wearing clothes stained with sweat and soil

 

He wonders, how much longer is his sentence in purgatory?

What tasks must he complete to ascend to glory?

 

He pauses for a moment, then begins to turn

reaches his fingers out to touch the Resurrection Fern