a tree

copyright c e ayr

Click here to hear the poet read his words:

a tree

once there is a tree
in a field of verdant grass
standing tall and happy
watching decades pass

in the field are hosts of poppies
delighting untold butterflies
pollinating joyfully
no hint of tears or sighs

the butterfly epitomises
all of nature’s joy and beauty
so I wonder every morning
why my spirit is so muted

because the field is changing
the ground is dark and bare
I lie awake till morning
to avoid the last nightmare

the house is cold and empty
hair rises on my skin
fearing not what lies without
just the terror from within

and now there is no tree
the poppies brown not red
the butterfly has butterflown
because your love is dead

This entry was posted in Poetry, Poetry and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to a tree

  1. jenne49 says:

    So desolate.
    Just the poem for a Scottish November day.


  2. Pingback: a tree | anelephantcant

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