Nick Ruff Poet Free verse

Tree

Tired tree,
You hang so hollow;
Who has stolen your joy?
Why, just a moment ago
You swayed and sang,
Your whispering wind-song
Whirling above me,
And you were happy

But now you are still,
So deadly still,
Somehow stricken
Into a sad silence
Bad weather, maybe,
Or something I said?
Won’t you speak?
Or can’t you tell me?

But from above,
No weary rustle sounds;
No branch bears a reply;
Only your leaves fall,
Slowly, softly,
Painting the pallid ground
Where I first heard
Your voice.

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Sara Zahed October 1, 2008 at 5:03 AM I love this!!! So simple yet implies how much you care about the tree as you stand there and ask it "Who has stolen your joy?" I like the way you gave the tree a bit of your time as you admired its state....Beautifully written...Sara...