"psst," the tall tree leaned down to whisper. "do you think they can hear us?"
the shorter tree looked around at the bustling streets, the tapping on screens, the skyscrapers that were taller then they could ever grow.
the shorter tree shook its head.
the two fell silent.
-
"hey," the tall tree whispered again. "do you think they can see us?"
the shorter tree stared out into the vast sea of people, chattering on phones, bumping into each other, never daring to raise their heads, to open their eyes, to look outside of their own personal bubbles.
the shorter tree sighed, and shook its head.
they were silent once more.
-
there were no leaves on the tall tree's branches, but it wasn't winter. he felt sick and feeble, and he was sure he would collapse any second now.
he forced his mouth open, saying softly, desperately, "hey. do you think they notice us?"
the shorter tree didn't look up.
"do you think they'll ever try to heal us?"
the shorter tree began to shake.
"do you...do you think they'll ever come back to us?"
the shorter tree paused.
then nodded.
"come back to nature?" he said. "yes. they'll...they'll have to."
silence came once more.
and they turned back to the streets, bare branches swaying in the wind.
YOU ARE READING
escapril 2019
Poetryescapril was created by the lovely savannah brown in which you write something, anything, every day of april inspired by the prompts. here is what i created. 🌷💐
