A never-ending flatness encircles it.
Desolate and barren,
the lifeless plain stretches out
to kiss the sky in every direction,
leaving it standing alone,
without support.
Looking slowly around,
it surveys the prosaic emptiness
that enshrouds it.
Cracked and scorched earth
lies dying at its feet.
Rotted and decaying roots
once stretched greedily
out for life-giving water.
Now shriveled and withered,
impacted in the lifeless soil.
Wincing in the glaring rays,
a blinding sunshine,
it searches the horizon
in hope of discovering someone,
anyone, bringing relief into its life.
Imagining even something
so simple as someone to lend it shade,
by being near it.
It daydreams of a companion
to share the burning heat
to shelter him from the suffocating solitude.
It is alone.
It is empty.
It is, I.
©2005 J.L. Day
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It is empty.
It is, I.
Very compelling endinig to this well penned poem! I had thought you were writing about a lonesome tree in west Texas...what with the drought so bad this year. Enjoyed...
Micke
"The Solitude of Lonliness"
Sensationally beautiful and dually sad.
Bitter sweet~"it searches the horizon
in hope of discovering someone,
anyone, bringing relief into its life."
Sincerely,
From the Heart of an Artist Quiet Storm
A dark quill that paints a desolate and frightening place to be.
Light and Wisdom ...
Richard Lloyd Cederberg