| Writing Poetry
posted October 24, 2024 |
What if you were the last tree?
The Gift
A gentle wave from curling leaf watches in weakness.
Green slips from shore, a purchased release.
Tender roots wash with shuttered sounds.
Steals foundation to a diminished, poison grip.
Inundate with modern gift's inevitable disguise.
The last of life, extinction blazes black.
Down slips the rocky skirts beneath the liquid lip.
A mist of remembrance where stone nurture once lay.
Shriveled trunk, bloated limb, a silent fiasco
We were infinity, now the singularity
Last of our kind, the jewel of what was fading.
As humans watch with insufferable indifference
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Free Form Poetry Contest contest entry
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Lea Tonin1
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Lea Tonin1
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