This is one of my favorite poems that I have written. It's intentionally very ambiguous.
The whispering trees
grow broad and fierce.
Boughs creak
and roots break.
The face of warped wood,
it is screaming.
As night descends
its black cloak,
even crows are not safe.
The childrens' trail of leaves
leads off to the left.
Their luminous smiles
shine bright to the right.
But, the children do not sing.
The sins of their parents
weigh them down.
The trembling fox
is no longer cunning.
The humble rabbit
cannot run.
The trees, the trees,
they are made of bones.
YOU ARE READING
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ПоэзияA collection of poetry that I have written while listening to music on full blast. ~My favorite bands~ Imagine Dragons AWOLNATION San Cisco Linkin Park The Neighbourhood Atlas Genius
