Pernicious ply of nylon, finch yellow, knotted, wound
around the oak beam mighty, jerked taut the tethered weight.
A passerby heeded the sound, “Had an icy branch just shattered?”
He did not hear the strangled gasp, or pause perchance to see,
the swinging of the lethal line bearing broken, bound, its dead.
What waste torment can render, when hope surrenders guard.