Evergreen

Look at that strange little tree down there.  Its leaves are green,
While those of all the others are brown and half blown off.
Look at the man who looks down at the tree.  He is old
And tired, aching in various joints, and one of his legs has
Cramped.  He's more akin to those wind-ravaged trees
Than the one which holds out, but, within his mind, he is not
What he'd see if he looked in a mirror.  He still thinks
His leaves are green.





Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 70 times
star mini Editors' choice
Written on 2024-11-14 at 21:42

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Sameen The PoetBay support member heart!
Amazing. Simply amazing. This poem has all your strengths and none of your weaknesses.
2024-11-19


Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
Congratulations! Your poem has been chosen to be featured on our home page by a fellow member of PoetBay. Thank you for posting on our poetry website!
2024-11-18


alarian The PoetBay support member heart!
smoke a joint and articulate when you puff
2024-11-15


Griffonner The PoetBay support member heart!
His thinking is not wrong either.
Blessings, Allen
2024-11-15


arquious The PoetBay support member heart!
And so they are, green…. for holding out is an inward strength that the outside shell could never comprehend… the young ‘uns have leg day, now I meet up with a regular cramp day, so there. 👍🏻
2024-11-15