"Riddle me this," Said the tree to its leaves
"How much longer till you are gone?"
"Won't be long" Sung the leaves, sunset colors turning to feathery dusk
"How alone I will be when this autumn has passed," the tree sighed with limbs so heavy
"To be a tree is nothing if there are no leaves by your side."
But the leaves did fall, and autumn did fade.
And the tree shrieked its grief in twisted limbs and calling creaks as winter came to the land once more
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Lacuna
Poetryla·cu·na [ləˈk(y)o͞onə] NOUN an unfilled space or interval; a gap. Poems of 2017
