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The Wreath-

Poetry By: Hinoglue

Lying alone, lost, under a wasted tree...

Submitted:Apr 18, 2012    Reads: 8    Comments: 2    Likes: 1   

Lying alone, lost,
Under a dark wasted tree,
It's barren,
Stripped of it's leaves
Much like the boy,
Stripped of life,
Resting peacefully,
Covered by the tree's bare branches
The grass in the wind,
Whispering sweet condolences,
A dark sky casting a restful shadow,
Over his quiet body
Larger trees, alive, blooming
Abundant branches; buds, birthing leaves,
Starve for his breath,
But none comes
And the bushes stand by,
Waiting for the one to find him,
Who will pick the briar's blossoming flowers,
And frame his pale, handsome face
A wreath of sympathy,
Made true by the beauteous blossoms


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