alone it stands, gnarled by age its branches,
or does it know the secrets of dark,
deeper than the darkest depth of night?
the deeds of your hands unkind-
-the thoughts of your tormented soul-
or is it your conscience
the whispers you hear from within,
buried in the long ago past,
yet tormenting your present
and holding at bay, the future?
is it beckoning in gentle,
to approach
the shelter of its leaves;
to sit against its trunk
-its strength through the ages-
offering redemption , an invitation to speak
of that forever darkness, that holds you hostage
-that conscience-that turmoil-
delusional perception of a soul sold for a dime;
-seen in the innocence of a lone tree-
Bronze trophy winner
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. So I will just say thank you for comment and thank you for hosting,
