The Oak

It towers,
an obelisk,
of age and nature,
laden,
with memories and tears,
and they do fall,
dropping from the leaves,
to soak the ground once more,
for the ground has had its share of torents,
and the tree,
satisfyed,
calls its mournful,
broken call,
to the others in serenade,
of a dream once had,
and a hope once lost.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback