A poem entitled The Whims of Trees


The Whims of Trees

 

The trees are bare

No colorful costumes of fall to adorn them

Yet in spring they begin again

An endless cycle of death and rebirth

Or so they would have us think

But we know nothing of the whims of trees

They are foliage to us

Barely living

Never thinking

Just another entity that we underestimate

I am a tree

Something for passersby to look at

Something for them to think

You poor fool

You don’t even know what they are looking at

Some think I scream for attention

When in truth I beg for the bark and leaves to protect me

But the trees they stay in place

And I travel the road to nowhere

Searching

For what?

Will I know what I find it?

Or does the road hold such allure

That I no longer care what I find

The street signs point to melancholy

And I follow

I follow

I follow

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One comment on “A poem entitled The Whims of Trees

  1. wymry says:

    I identify with this poem. I like the comparison to trees. I enjoy the twist in the poem. I love the ending. It resonates.

    Like

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