Thoughts of An Old October Elm Tree
Thoughts of an Old October Elm Tree
My browning leaves decry
My farewell to Mrs. Summer and her plush;
With her desperate gasping push
Against cold and coming days.
When Ms. Spring thrust her first rose bud,
Putting to bed Old Man Winter’s last blow, then
I wondered would I see her again;
So many times he had come and gone.
And now, now again,
My silhouette thinned against a new dawn.
Will the old man win?
Or a new Ms. Spring discover me gone.
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