I think of trees like people.
The weeping willow is a sweetheart
How I longed to cry when she was killed.
The line of small pines are like little
Soldier boys;
Children off to war
Pretending to be strong
While invisible branches snap inside them,
tendons made of Spanish moss.
Winter tries to decay the living,
Breathing
essence of love.
But spring arrives
And laughs at winter's
Cruel display
As he shrinks away with a whisper
Though he tries to roar.
And she turns away,
Blushing.
YOU ARE READING
We Write for Fear of Silence
Poetry{My soul put into words. Writing is how I put myself back together again. Writing is how I love.} **all poems are mine** HIGHEST RANKING: #30 IN POETRY & #1 IN TEEN POETRY
