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by Maple Tree Jul 31, 2017
Nature, environment /
Snow in Autumn falling,
yet hanging on to fresh air
gliding then tumbling, spinning
like the moon shedding a dusty layer
Rustic leaves land upon the earth
slowly dying, whispering
final moments of life
as winter's calling arrives.
I spy the nightingale
eye burning like a candle
beckoning me from my shattered daydream
snow crunching staggering, I approach tentatively.
I seek conversation of melody
however I fall deaf to song
and other peaceful endevers.
I expected rain, not this biting cold
flowers hidden, their bloomage carpeted
that bird still watching me
a blot on a blank canvas landscape.
Wishing for color to explode
like confetti during a thunderstorm,
my mood shifts, cheeks blushing,
he heard my mind before I spoke.
I lay on my back, this ice blanket distorting
'Mr Nightingale, you have freedom'
'this whole world to explore.'
drifting away while making snow Angels, pretending to fly.
"You are but a fool to think that seasons bind you,
for within each precious moment, you are given
a light to guide your apricot eyes; you are a fruitfull spirit"
now fly my child, he whispers,
and flys away, under the dark, sultry moon.
By Darren and Maple Tree
Beautifully done you two.
by Ben Pickard
by Beautiful Tragedy