The Wreath-

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
Lying alone, lost, under a wasted tree...

Submitted: April 18, 2012

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Submitted: April 18, 2012

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A A A


 

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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