My Trees

God’s winds destroyed my trees.
It was an unfair battle
because the trees did nothing
but stand still
and sway.
Now I look at where the corpses lay,
looming lightly after falling hard
and crashing down
and now these bodies are on the ground.
Gusts like gunshots
through the heads of my trees.
Luckily they do not bleed
or the grass would be red
from all they have shed.
Noiseless, it is silent
The birds do not sing.
They are quietly mourning
the death of
what the trees would bring.
And something
inside of me has
Washed Away
As I watch these trees decay.
The light of day
cannot give
me the want to live
like the trees did.





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