Trees

Brilliant blossoms from a simple seed reach to those of a darker red, Like all that shone from shadows gone, the essence of our lives; For we are bound to the wisdom of passing years, held to a trees decline, Until the limbs and boughs stretch high no more and all existence passes by To allow the strength of its symmetry to end Where shall we be when winds blow leaves of a softer shade of gray? And the silent boughs begin to wither and slowly crack with age, There colors are lost to years gone by, never to return… And the natural beauty of a rustic beam is gone to times of change Sacrificing our dying tree Too sweetly we stare at the withered tree redeemed by a darker red, Until forever they wait as our seasons change and memory’s pass away, Crumbled oak from its wilted bough reaches out to a single leaf And limbs stretched high with strength and design Wither away and die