Fevered Visions

Author's Note

The ghost trees dance in the mist
you can almost see them
graceful trunks swaying
leaves murmuring—singing
in the breeze over the bayou

Black lumber, coveted
by blacker hearts
they did not leave even one

Mahogany was the color
of my love’s skin
mahogany was the stately tree
that once grew here
one felled by hatred
one felled by greed
they dance together in my dreams
and fill my memories
with beauty

Reviews

[M Sanders]

I really enjoyed this work of art. It draws me in. I love your discriptions and felt the emoitions in the connection you share with the ghost trees. Well penned:)

M