Analysis of The Plot

Decourous in the Standards of Death,
The Forrest Lived.
There was no wind,
not even a slight draft invaded the aboreal insulation.
Other Forrests boasted fervor in verdant life, but not mine.

Where Squirrels scampered and frolicked with smiles in adjacent forrests,
they wouldn't enter mine.
The Smells in other places were rich and pungent,
Dispersing the miracle perfume odors the earth sometimes brews,
But my forrest reeks of rotting and decaying potpourris.

The Skylights were un-tinted, yet revealed all of the darkness the sky wanted to damn
my forrest with.