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