Among the golden tipped, rippling, emerald waves of grass, one can see,
An old, twisted, gnarled and hollowed, solitary tree.
Splintered and broken, it grows no more,
limbs and bark remain on the surrounding floor.
Thin, gyrating, and pleading branches reach out,
towards the sapphire sky, as whipped cream clouds drift about.
Gray and black, the wood, dry, crumbling, and rough...
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