The Mask
I see a masked shape
in the trees
when the wind blows
the mask laughs
it's leafed face half hidden
it does not mock
as it is trapped, half exposed
the other half is mingled, attached
to it's roots of birth
when the east sun shines
the mask disappears
with a shadow
it jitters and trembles
succumbing to it's
birthright.
Copyright © Lorraine Ferns | Year Posted 2012
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