Poetry

A dead tree standing

Still casts a shadow.

It still exists

As the sun’s creation proves.

Where there is a presence 

There will be a sketch on the ground.

The outline of what could be

Until you chop it down.

Did it drop an acorn?

Did you want it too?

Or is the earth best bare

With its only shadow

Of you.

One thought on “Poetry

Comments are closed.