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Sherbrooke Forest | By Penny Whetton
THE FALLEN
Tree branches bend,
scarred by age.
Beaten by the storm,
many hit the ground
amid piles of leaves.
Without a proper burial,
no one mourns their loss.
The fallen won’t be forgotten
as replacements take root
in the shade of the tall trees.
Sunshine filters through the forest,
lighting the way for the future.
Regis.
I ONCE WAS WAITING FOR THE TRAFFIC LIGHT TO CHANGE
WHEN I HEARD A BIG DULL THUMP LOOKED TO MY LEFT AND A HUGE OAK TREE WAS NOW MINUS A GIGANTIC LOWER BRANCH MUST HAVE BEEN ABOUT 25 FEET LONG, THE OAK WAS DYING FROM THE CHOKING SPANISH MOSS YET HE WAS STILL STANDING
love AND PEACE BE WITH YOU
wILLIAM
scarred by age.
Beaten by the storm,
many hit the ground
Sounds like you were writing about me, Susanne. What? You been following me around most of my life? All kidding aside, I loved this inn-depth poem.
Thanks for the heads up!
Ron
Sandie