Author's Note: This isn't my usual writing style, but I wrote this on the fly for a story that I'm editing and re-vamping, so I thought that I should post it as it's own post simply because it is a poem that I wrote.
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A tree
Standing tall
Proud
Powerful
Solitary
Alone.
With it’s long limbs reaching out to you
Grabbing at you
Moving with the wind
Stronger as the wind blows harder
Weaker with
The rest of the breeze
The trees cry with the storms
Raindrops
Teardrops
Falling from each branch
Pooling on the ground
With a sadness
That brings me down to my knees
Because I understand.
The canopy of leaves provides shade
Relief
Shelter
In the blaze of the summer
But those same leaves fall
They parish
In the autumn and winter winds
They blossom in the spring
Rejuvenating
Reviving
Their beauty too strong for death to take them fully
They can’t speak.
They can’t provide comfort through words.
But they are
Homes for animals
They are
Friends of man.
It is my friend.
I tell it my secrets
It knows who I am.
YOU ARE READING
Breath
Poetrybreath /breTH/ noun archaic the power of breathing; life. synonyms: life, life force
