A regal oak
Dressed in her finest Autumn colors,
Stands half empty.
Defeated leaves
cling to brittle branches
like music box ballerinas
with chipping paint-
Frozen in their graceful and eternal
Leaps-
The music stops playing
Eventually.
The tree
Will stand empty-
Winter claiming its prize.
Show's over,
The wind whistles
As if anyone was watching
Once the paint started to
Chip.
YOU ARE READING
We Write for Fear of Silence
Poetry{My soul put into words. Writing is how I put myself back together again. Writing is how I love.} **all poems are mine** HIGHEST RANKING: #30 IN POETRY & #1 IN TEEN POETRY
