The Dying
Tree
Once
standing tall
With
its leaves full,
Its
hope was all
As a
breeze lulled.
Strong
and true,
Its colors
vibrant.
Reaching
a sky blue
As it
danced.
Then,
one dreary day
Its branches
became too heavy
And felt
subject to decay.
The dying
tree.
Its leaves
fell away,
Leaving
it bare and cold,
Feeling
an aching pain
Of having
nothing to hold.
Feeling
pained and forlorn,
Yes,
the many shades of loneliness,
Its
wealth torn
Beneath
life’s test.
All it
can do is wait--
Wait
until its leaves find their branches of strength.
“I hope
they make haste.”
Cries
the dying tree.