Wednesday, March 25, 2009

From the core

When a bough breaks it's no silent affair
but a heart wrenching cry from the core of a tree
for a part of itself has withered and died
on the ground where the world passes it by.

The tree is half bare but nobody cares
that once it held flowers and leaves
and stood as a symbol of stability
for all who would teeter and fall.

It was winter back then so long ago
when the tree looked for answers within
but life dished up its perspective
and the tree ate heartily.

Today the tree cries like a woman denied
and moans like a lover abandoned
for no nourishment can ever be found
on a plate of outside influence.

Listen, oh, listen, but nobody hears
heart wrenching cries from the core of a tree!

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