Beautiful dying hulk
Attracting the curious eye
Of those unsure of its destiny
A tragedy some might say
This cycle of life on display
The setting, breathtaking in the mist
But it is smoke that you smell
On the wind
With implications unclear
And the majesty of the moment
Cries out
A guttural wail in the night
For there is yet life within
But this is only solitude
Despite an admiring glare
But none would embrace me now
Except in grief
However, mistake not my plight
For while my fate is sealed, like yours
I die slowly
With yawning years to consider
The many gifts
These centuries have shown
And when my day is done
I will warm and protect you
In the rich ground
Of Mother Earth
As you lean toward eternity
And then I will admire you
And all that you have done
And sweet symbiosis will carry us along
Together, you and I
To the promise
Of what is to come.
Frank P. Whyte Poetry
Cryssa