i stand camouflaged,
a single needle in the boughs of this pine--
you, the angel
fallen from the crown.
i am tipped with rust;
no longer will i be whole,
but helpless;
my time to fall has not come
and there is no happy child to pluck me,
to leave me for debris
on the forest floor.
the snow blankets my branch;
you rest in the sun.
and after the long years,
when the ever has left the green,
i will meet you
in the blazing shadows.
Author notes
my second attempt?
it's taken me a few days.
In a list
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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great
as usual i love your work and understand about 75% of it.
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