gliding

gliding

Friday, April 19, 2013

The Last Tree

The last standing tree in this community
Stands in my backyard
A tall majestic beauty
Lonely, we call her pine
She won’t speak to us anymore
Taking a vow of silence or perhaps
So deep in sorrow she hears no one and nothing
But sometimes
When the wind blows
She sings solo

How I miss the ancient choir

Cold structures stare blankly
Made of corpses
They give no life
They are not to blame
Motionless, no visible sway
They play no music
Apart from a loose tile
Hitting a B flat
Again and again
Prodded by a petulant angry wind
Life moves even the lifeless

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