Life is
akin to a tree, scanty leavesin earliest leaf time, gradually
so thick they shade it.
It loses
the fruits in the dead of winter, the flowers
are forgotten, holding on
nostalgic branches only leaves. One day
storm will rise, they will be smitten
and drop down slain. It reminds us just how
evanescent
are
both
every ray of sun
every dark cloud
and once more spring will break-
all that blossom, blossom;
I shall hang upon my stump a sparse rattle of twigs
whence
all fruits, flowers and leaves have left.
Poetry by yoonoos peerbocus
Read 64 times
Written on 2025-10-07 at 04:54
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