leather and prunella

wind-twisted branches hide whole worlds of time
hidden from us by all the ways we fade
as in our grown-up lives we are arrayed
to deal with all the toils of pain and crime
what was once simple joyful all in prime
becomes a matter just of cash in trade
in deepest memory the meaning frayed
what had been once the magical sublime
now what we do demands a constant rule
measured by means that are no more than dust
and we rush onwards hoping for the best
each of us thinking that we're just a tool
giving the worthless wholly unearned trust
not knowing whether they will meet the test