My Friend the Tree

A little poem dedicated to my best friend

You were a sprout
Tiny and fragile
Safe in you cocoon of ignorance
Your roots hardly planted
Leaves just barely
Peaking out
You were safe and sound

But you grew
Your roots hooking deeper
Into the ground
And in the world around you
Your leaves are red, purple, yellow
Ever changing
And adapting to the world

You were burned
The world is cruel
they saw your beauty and wanted it
They took their torches to you
You naively believed they were friends
Held out your branches
And burned for it

Then you came back
Charred and full of hate
Your blackened leaves no longer
Wanting to join to world
Your naive nature burned
With your roots
No longer holding you to anything

You will heal
Your leaves will be healthy and colorful
Once more my friend
Your roots will plant
Somewhere safe and somewhere kind
Time will heal all your wounds
And I will be by your side

Reviews

[ToriSchrodi]

You are a amazing writer. Your descriptions bring tears to my eyes. Incredible.

[fvkom]

I read by someone: the most successful root is the one that runs the farthest from its seed, or something like that, I wish could remember by who.

If you were looking to play with it more, you could go through and take out as many words as you can to leave only the essential narrative and the bare images. This is something I do to get a better idea of where I want to go, it often doesn't directly improve the poem.

I do like the imagery here, as well as the strong story arc. It is a lovely and original use of the tree as metaphor.

Thank you for sharing, a pleasure to read.

[Tony Jordan]

S**t, your descriptive powers are powerful Alexis.
Everyone needs friends like this.
Nicely done.