• theheathenpoet 50w

    The Flailing Trees

    The flailing trees
    shed their leaves
    balding in their decline
    lonely and senile
    the curse of youth
    gradually a craving
    for company, for comfort
    trees that never bent
    never broke, now stand
    laden with snow.
    This spring
    they'll melt with the new sun
    and another sapling
    will take their place
    in the cycle of life
    and the old ones
    will pass into memory
    without a funeral.