Metaphor

A hollowed, aged tree, almost devoid of leaves
Leans outward from a river bank, attached,
But barely so, by cracking roots. A storm
Approaches from the east. The wind picks
Up. The rain arrives in torrents, and
The river rises. Soon, the tree is torn
Away and taken by the heaving water,
Spinning, bashing over stones to where?
There is no way of knowing. I know
Only I'm the tree, and you're the storm,
The rushing waters that have taken me.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 60 times
Written on 2014-08-18 at 21:28

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