A tree stands, lone and tall,
Only frequently accompanied by the wind,
The leaves are no good for eating,
And the branches much too weak for nesting.
Each gust of unwelcome wind,
Strips branches,
Tears leaves,
They fall to the ground only to die,
Only to be left alone.
And although new leaves,
New branches are grown,
Those that were lost,
Can never be replaced.
The tree holds tightly to,
Each branch,
Each leaf,
Each teeny tiny twig.
Leaves fall,
Branches break,
And fall anyway,
Crashing to the ground.
Alone stands the tree,
Shaken and stirred by,
Rain,
Wind,
And constant storms.
Broken and alone,
The tree can only grow,
Grow,
Grow larger, and stronger,
And also more sturdy.
As the tree grows and grows,
As only it know how,
It cannot be helped,
Branches grow broader and thicker,
Leaves grow greener.
And the sun shines a little brighter,
And soon before it is noticed,
Branches still break,
And leaves still fall,
But no longer are they missed,
To the degree they were.
The sun shines,
And soon before it is charted,
Measured,
Or noticed,
Branches house nests,
And nearly every leaf has eaten out holes.
Though our tree is no longer worthless,
As it once thought,
It almost misses the way it once was.
And as I accompany my not so lonely tree,
On a warm summer afternoon,
I am comforted by,
Fallen leaves.
And broken branches,
And the warm sunlight,
So kindly filtered through leaves,
That never harms my skin.
Only frequently accompanied by the wind,
The leaves are no good for eating,
And the branches much too weak for nesting.
Each gust of unwelcome wind,
Strips branches,
Tears leaves,
They fall to the ground only to die,
Only to be left alone.
And although new leaves,
New branches are grown,
Those that were lost,
Can never be replaced.
The tree holds tightly to,
Each branch,
Each leaf,
Each teeny tiny twig.
Leaves fall,
Branches break,
And fall anyway,
Crashing to the ground.
Alone stands the tree,
Shaken and stirred by,
Rain,
Wind,
And constant storms.
Broken and alone,
The tree can only grow,
Grow,
Grow larger, and stronger,
And also more sturdy.
As the tree grows and grows,
As only it know how,
It cannot be helped,
Branches grow broader and thicker,
Leaves grow greener.
And the sun shines a little brighter,
And soon before it is noticed,
Branches still break,
And leaves still fall,
But no longer are they missed,
To the degree they were.
The sun shines,
And soon before it is charted,
Measured,
Or noticed,
Branches house nests,
And nearly every leaf has eaten out holes.
Though our tree is no longer worthless,
As it once thought,
It almost misses the way it once was.
And as I accompany my not so lonely tree,
On a warm summer afternoon,
I am comforted by,
Fallen leaves.
And broken branches,
And the warm sunlight,
So kindly filtered through leaves,
That never harms my skin.
This poem explains how even though things tear you down such as firefighters, books will always comfort you and people will keep fighting for them. (In the words of Farenheit 451)
I like this one, it also tells the story of the book. The branches and leaves represents books, as books began to disappear in the beginning. People grew weary but over time they learn to miss the books little less. If the poem continue, maybe it would reflect on how the tree no longer cares about the fallen leaves or branches. Like the society no longer cared about the books they were burning
ReplyDeleteYou did well on the parlor poetry assignment; I look forward to seeing more from you. I like how you tied it in with Fahrenheit 451.
ReplyDelete