Each summer trees bloom, their leaves full of vibrance, full of life.
They wave in the wind and kiss the sky.
Every autumn they must die.
Their leaves wither, their colors fade, they greet winter with a bare blink,
But when spring comes around once more,
they flourish and grow
becoming whole.
But, we are not trees, a simple fact,
I know.
Yet, I wish that once lost
I would once again grow.
YOU ARE READING
where tears may fall.
Poetrywords unspoken and lost, skittering away to plant themselves on paper. i'd love to hear feedback [it may or may not be vital for my self esteem]; thanks for taking the time to read my sad, silly thoughts. [lowercase intended.]
