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after everyone had gone,
the underbrush twiggy and bare,
nothing to offer comfort there.
I sought my solace in the sky.
It having no wise words to share,
the more alone was I.
And I am tired
from all the years,
of wandering this vale of tears.
Yet still green meadows will I seek,
there to await the sunny morn,
that follows every season bleak
as it has since I was born.
I ask in turn the star-flung sky:
what and how and when and why?
It has no words to comfort me.
I must become the bitter tree
that bears sweet fruit for all to see,
in hopes they'll thus
remember me.
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Not sure where this little ditty popped up from.
Dont worry, kids, I'm fine. Just a bit tired.
I am linking this to Poets United's Poetry Pantry this Sunday - do stop by. There is always a lot of great reading on Sunday in the Pantry!
