The silence of a tree

A tree stands alone,
weathered color, pockmarked
skin waiting
for a slow, silent death
his hollows have been forgotten,
his achievements erased,
Holding tired branches
dragging memories
still clinging to his sorry bark,
as the world around him
crumbles, ricocheting, melting
into dust,
still the tree stands tall
waiting for the spark-colored sky to end

the silence of a tree
remains