THEIR branches bare, their trunks gnarled and old.

As I grew up, I found solace in silence,
finding comfort in the whispering breeze.
I cared not for human chatter and noise,
preferring instead the rustling of leaves.

Amongst the weeds, the burdock and the nettle,
stood a tree that I treasured most of all.
Its slender form, its mournful weeping,
soothed my restless soul whenever I called.

But now I’ve lived beyond its years,
and to my surprise, I see its stump.
New willows speak with alien tongues,
underneath the sky that we once shared in thump.

Silent and still, as if in mourning,
I stand before the tree that felt like kin.

:: 03.05.2023 ::

About EPRobles

Writer, Artist. I like to paint abstract acrylic images onto canvas. I love to read everything, and I especially enjoy science, philosophy, and the arts. I'm new to the blog experience and I very much enjoy it! I hope to learn as much about all the features that WordPress offers and thank you -- my visitor -- for taking time to read my words. Peace and love... View all posts by EPRobles

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