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Tree.

I have been a tree
silent, among a silent many
turning a thousand bright and dismal colors at the whims of time.
I have watched the young gather in pairs around me
with no eyes but mine, who can never tell
the love confessed beneath my leaves
carved into my yeilding skin.

I have hidden children's treasures
in the ground round my feet.
Furtively to me they were entrusted
and forgotten as time stole their value from their minds.

I have been revered
despised
overlooked as the years advanced.

I have felt the great and horrible
weight of the innocent hanging from my arms
supported by short ropes as they dance on air into unmarked graves.

And I have seen the silent many
falling by the hundreds around me
until I, too, was murdered to build a city.



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