The tree in my Backyard

A Poem by Snivy12345

I wrote this in my creative writing class. All reviews and critiques are encouraged. Thank you.

Slowly falling, softly falling,
My children dance magically to the ground
From my ancient arms.
Regardless of reason,
The cycle repeats

He again is drawing, writing,
Drowning out the world with his music,
Going as far as to just gaze,
Staring past me and himself.

The cycle repeats.

Every time, sadness, anger, depression, and anxiety
Are the auras I feel.
No joy… no joy.
I wonder if he knows
I sense his pain.

The backyard door opens again,
his notebook clutched,

The cycle begins.

His sigh, audible.
His pain, shared.

SNAP!
The pencil in his tense hands breaks,
The force of the anger
Flowing through the wood
And onto the abused paper laying in his lap.

Staring blankly at the sight,
The tension in the air thicker than molasses,
One of my leaves fall,
Reaching out to a clutched hand.

The boy glances at it,
His demeanour shifting to a half smile.
“Thank you...”

He rises,
Brushing himself off softly
Before walking back inside.
He knew all along.
The cycle ends.