How Elegant the Portrayel of Murdered Glory

Dead wood falls to the ashes and dirt
Singing the monotone of visible clouds
Numerous weeds spring in place,
Astonishing the bark and the crowds...

Mold corrupts the stolen leaves
That fell from the single branch
Roots rot into a frozen visibility
Dead from the oak's avalanche...

Bushes and soil pray for growth,
And in pleasure they wait to flea
Sad part of this lonely story
Is that it's not about a tree...

© Copyright Caleb Kile 2005

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