Bones and blood and corns and mud.

I went back. Because I had to. I had to see. I thought that I would forget all about you. I thought I'd forget all the little details. But they're as vivid as ever. 

Battlegrounds.

Bones and blood and corns and mud. 

Yet I remember the lavish charm you withheld. 

Yet the sight is still tainted. Twisted love. Snapped with fury. Rages and tsunamis. Will you never not hold me?

You're.... just... gone. 

Your cloak and daggers. Your warmth and anger. Your charm and swagger. 

Your whispers, your tickles, your slurps and kisses.

But I'll never forget those autumn days, with the wind and the smoke filled haze, with your long and green tendrils and your longing gaze, with your arms outstretched making me ok.

But...I'll always remember deep in my heart, the claustrophobic panic, giving me a start. I'll always remember that hold on me, the swaying, the playing, the teasing, the strain.

And for that I'm grateful you're feeding the animals, the bristling beasts, the remnants, those poor godawful rodents. 

I'm grateful because you have no hold and next autumn, I tell you I'll be back bigger than bold. I'll be flying circles round you and I'll sway and we'll play and we'll stumble and trip, together we may. And you'll slurp me up all over again, yet I won't be afraid, no I won't be afraid and at the end of the day, you're just corn in a cornfield and what else but to say, just you wait, I'll have my day, I'll tower, I'll climb and you'll be afraid, of the day you were left in this lonely place with no one there, just holding your breath, sitting out, waiting for the seasons of change and your stalks all snapped and your bristles splayed, your days all spent, with your bones and blood and corns and mud. 

And I told you, didn't I tell you, I was just about to blossom and fly... because without you I'm as high as a kite.

All photography by Martha Moopette