
A Dying Tree
A dying tree makes me weep.
How beautiful it once was,
how it will never be again.
It’s branches no longer bend.
It longs for sleep
as Spring brings ever-closer
its impending end.
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A dying tree makes me weep.
How beautiful it once was,
how it will never be again.
It’s branches no longer bend.
It longs for sleep
as Spring brings ever-closer
its impending end.
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