The Inevitable - Poetry Book

Winter Has Come

As the weather warms,
The flows grow.
As the weather warms,
The animals know,
Its time to go back home.

A trees bare branches don't last long,
As they are soon filled by leaves,
And they hold on strong.

As the days pass by, that tree grows.
Its branches thrive,
Its leaves survive.

With birds sitting on its branch,
Or a child pulling on to snatch,
The leaves stay,
And it would never fray.

The days pass by, the weather warms,
The leaves still stay like its the new norm.
Through rain and storms,
They stay.
They stay.

But the days start to shorten.
The heat simmering,
And winter is coming.
These leaves don't know,
How they will soon flow,
From up on the tree to the bitter ground.

The tree could feel the icy nights,
And the brisk mornings.
The tree knows of the inevitable,
It knows what it's going to lose.

The birds all leave,
In search of warmer days.
And the children retreat,
Into their homes for heat.

But the tree cannot hide,
It cannot move.
It's stuck, ready to bare,
Waiting to drop.

The inevitable is upon,
And the tree knows.
The leaves will die off,
Separate from,
It's home.
The tree is left to deal,
With the bitter cold.

It says goodbye to its leaves,
It lets them turn pretty.
It lets them know,
That it never wanted to let go.

And just as the leaves changed into its,
Reds and oranges, straying from its natural green.
The days grow colder,
And the need for wood is stronger,
And down comes an ax,
By a hunter,

Chop, Chop, Chop

He had chopped down that tree,
Needing the warmth for his three.

Chop, Chop, Chop

They thought the wind would come,
And pull on each leaf,
Leave the tree bare.
Let it lose,
Everything,
It had.

But what the hunter did,
It was golden.
He just needed the,
Warmth for his children.
He had saved the tree,
From feeling bare.
When the bitter cold
Froze all insight.

——-
I had written a passage a few years ago, and when I saw it again, it gave me a good base for this poem. This is the passage:

I look outside the window and see how the leaves flow.
How they drift back and forth, trying to break apart and come forth
They try to leave their hollow branches and tear from their treading pasts.
A leaf before it has fallen can never know of the warnings and callings
As I stare outside the window, I see the leaves start to wither, to crumbed and break apart
From everything that was good,
As they sway carelessly in the wind,
Never knew nor pondered about
What is underneath?
—
That was very long and I totally overanalyzed a tree lol
Thanks for reading and don't forget to...
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