Will You Be My Tomorrow
Will you be my tomorrow?
When the sun creeps languorously
Red and purple swirls,
golden tentacles stretching,
stretching to embrace the spreading wings of birds aflutter
as they draw towards those very life giving limbs as they
burst through the skies vividly
To and fro they dart
a choir of beautiful solo proclamations disjointed yet unified
Great trunks sturdy
lifting greens higher,
higher to drink of that potion
Buds, slowly they unfurl giving way to dainty leaves
How carefully they are veined, their sustainance obtained
Leaning blades they weep as they witness
the beauty of my tomorrow, today
Will you be my tomorrow?
Vicious winds howling
Oranges, browns swirling
like dancers they flutter to the ground
Soft blanket of fallen pieces carefully laid
disrobed from gnarly fingers striving,
yes striving for perseverance
Garbled birdsong , hunched wings
as they retreat into cocoons of their creation
woven and threaded pecked and mud slung
perfect in their complexity,
beautiful in simplicity
See where there is stunting, blades no longer lush but
trodden to bareness beneath the carpet of debris that paves a way for regrowth
tomorrow...
but what about today?
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