View from the top of the bus by Adam Parry

The Lady Ivy embraced the old Oak King,
and they lay upon each other's lips for a day of days
in the time before Summer had a name,
or before a day ran out of time.
Entwined and verdant leaf
like a winter waistcoat about him
the Lady Ivy grew and twisted round,
growing almost touching
the rare old wood of the King, exiled,
Lord of a lost continent, within.