To my left I see the shadows of my past,
I remember their faces- though a long time ago,
Sitting on what's left of the old oak tree- I can remember the grey stones,
I can remember the sound her crushing bones,
The stories she told about the lost treasures-the lost gold,
Her lush green leaves slowly turns the colours of the ground,
Not a single branch moves, you can barely hear a sound,
I remember laying there with her,
The protagonist of dreams,
I remember how they cut beneath her belly,
And watched as her golden sap flowed,
I remember the sounds the she made as her body crash with the ground- taking her liveliness with her.
With nothing left but the stump,
I shudder silently beneath the moon's silvery eyes,
Missing the times where I could ponder upon her wisdom- words from the wise,
Or the times when I could climb into her arms,
Now she in some foreign land building farms.
This gloomy Summers's Eve brings back the memories of my friend, old oak tree.
I can see her beauty but that's all in the past, what I saw was her tears that created tonights overcast.
You cruel and unkind persons please make her your last.
YOU ARE READING
Embrace Poetry ||Wattys2016||
Poetry#73 (28/6/16) Are you lost? Then be found with Embrace Poetry, some of the most exuberant poetic pieces you will ever read will be found in this book, you will experience sadness, love, peace and joy. In essence this is a collection of my original p...
