The Tree
The tree given to me by an old bird
crashed to the floor as the gray chameleon
who had fixed the wounds of home watched
in transfixion.
The corner hit the clock and stopped the past
and I watched the old birds past crumble.
The technicolor turned tree lay on the earth
broken into pieces that radiated family and loss.
The old bird had given me mother earths kin
the tree as her mother went to into the
netherworld. The little caterpillar took the tree
and made it its own. The soul of followed her throughout
the vibrant christmas lights. The time in
his life in which life served as a wishing well
that never served his purpose.
The lose of a piece of someone, the essence of
somethings inner being and soul who
no longer walks the purgatory we call earth.
The child trusted to hold the years of yesterday
allows yesterday to become today.
The tree represented the chocolate
poinsettia, and white. The rainbow lights that illuminated
the contours of the caterpillars room which was
the path to the childs dreams of success and
happiness.
Those were crushed just as the life of the women
was crushed as that tree broke into a million little
pieces. The caterpillar was sad for the lost of
the tree, but he mostly felt sorry for the old bird
who had given him her mother. Though the sadness
didnt last long, as the caterpillar was a child and
a child has to learn to move on.
Copyright © Malcolm Bamba | Year Posted 2015
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment