29 Oct Thoughts of a Withering Tree
I’m not so scary, after all,
A season spent devoid of shade,
When autumn leaves sway as they fall;
A child once ran for his ball,
With time and age does beauty fade.
My branches crackle, withered sticks
But do I look so differently?
Below you used to play your tricks,
When foliage shed and felt your kicks,
Now on your face, melancholy.
I think I’ve done all that I can,
Your happiness my only aim;
We’ve aged together, you’re a man,
My roots still strong, intricate plan,
Outward appearance, gloom I feign.
I wonder if you pretend too,
A look I have not seen before;
A subtle sadness, shade of blue,
Your silent gait, November clue,
But like my roots, look deep, there’s more