I´m
Made of bones of the branches
The boughs and the brow-beating light

While my feet are the trunks
And my head is the canopy high

And my fingers extend
To the leaves
And the eaves
And the (bright?)

Might I shine?
It´s my shine (child?)

He
Was a baby abandoned
Entombed in a cradle of claim (clay?)

And I was a soul
Who took pity
And stole him away

And gave him the form of
A fawn to inhabit
By day

Bright Eyes, stay
It´s my day

And you
Have removed this temptation
That´s troubled my innocent child

To abduct and abuse and to render, (bereft?) and defiled

But the river is deep
To the banks and the water is wild,
I will fly you
To the far side