Winters dead tree
Winters dead tree, gloomy to life below,
It wants to come back,
So it reaches up to a black sky and with slender fingers.
It let go of its leaves when needed most,
The birds have left it no more substance,
It owns no fruit, the bark cracks as it freezes, it waits.
Not the sun, but a delicate light finds them,
In a blanket of death, and it embraces the earth and melts with the dirt,
And the bird simply finds another tree.
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BeardedPoet
I'm an aspiring poet from the small town of Newbury Park. I'm currently in my graduating year of high school and was first inspired to write by the movie "Dead Poets Society". My favorite poets are Dylan Thomas and Christopher Poindexter. I have all of my poems documented on Hellopoetry.com and on my Instagram @wise_man_poetry. I mostly write free verse about my experiences and interpretations of my surroundings. I'm greatly inspired by human behavior and nature. I hope to publish a book of my collected poems in the future.
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