A single maple amongst the fields,
Atop a hill, and bare against
The orange-pink sky which coldly yields
A wind by which leaves are dispensed.
The maple cannot reach down
To gather up its fallen deeds:
The parts it grew and now are found
Below the sticky sap it bleeds.
What happens when only one leaf
Remains tethered to a barren trunk
Which the winter wind assaults with grief
Leaving that one. Last. Hope. Sunk.
Atop a hill, and bare against
The orange-pink sky which coldly yields
A wind by which leaves are dispensed.
The maple cannot reach down
To gather up its fallen deeds:
The parts it grew and now are found
Below the sticky sap it bleeds.
What happens when only one leaf
Remains tethered to a barren trunk
Which the winter wind assaults with grief
Leaving that one. Last. Hope. Sunk.
2 comments:
I'm so glad I was able to break away from the tediousness of work to find this little nugget of gold. As always your words and use of symbolism amaze me.
AD
I'm glad you were pleasantly surprised. (^_^)
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