Email Poem

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Poem

O’ little Bonsai, looking elegant!
Ah, you are quiescent!
How do you feel when trimmed?
Discontented for being slimmed?

I feel a conscious impulse - carries
Back to mother earth’s hands.
I wished I would be a great bower,
For passers-by and for birds a big tower.

It’s not my silence,
But sadness that cast on my face.
Deprived of my original charm,
And last as a showy in the living room.

People wonder at my pretty figure.
But never realize that I have lost my vigor.
My stature makes them exuberant.
But never recognize that I am poignant.

Contest : BRIAN'S Choice U, any form, any theme
Contest judged on: 25/05/2020
Sponsored by : Brian Strand
winner : Honorable Mention

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