Magazine, website & books written by teens since 1989

The Weeping Tree

Custom User Avatar
More by this author
In the endless field of peonies it stands,
alone and resolute.
Unchanged by winds or shifting sands,
it groans, a stepping-stone to the aged past.
It seems to sing the mourners’ song,
for it is dead, but only half-gone.
Forever doomed to stand alone,
to never bloom again.
It curses wind and sky and rain,
and hates the rain-drenched spring.
All who wander past its bows hear its tale of woe.
For that is how it got its name;
it is the Weeping Tree.





Post a Comment

Be the first to comment on this article!

bRealTime banner ad on the left side
Site Feedback