Walking by the withered tree, a feeling of helplessness
escapes ..a misty puff of breath through the serenely silent night..
Walking by, eyes can’t escape the withered tree so longing
for life..
The transversal bark reminds the onlooker of the million
stories yet untold but longing to cast..
A deep sense of incompleteness is what fills the serene
night…something filled by the melancholy untold tales of the poor wilted life
When gazing longingly into the wilted branches, it only seems
as if burdens have weighed heavy on the withered tree without casting a loving glance..
Not a drop of water to quench the parched roots, the
withered branches looks away, it would have cried, the withered tree, if words
could have its way..
As the last leaf has its way, the onlooker glances once
again… if the withered tree could have its way , I am sure it would have wished
for another day..
