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Post by frankievon on Nov 17, 2011 5:30:31 GMT -5
I sprout from a tree, Gain strength as i feed, From the light that's bestowed upon me. I grow as im nourished, Now vibrant and flourish, I take what is given to me.
Cold breeze from the north, As nature takes course, I notice a slight change in me.. My brothers lose color, No feed from our mother, Oh what is becoming of me..
Withered and still, Near death if you will., A gust comes again, No mercy for friends, Oh what is the purpose of me?,
Now silent in stone, Im chilled to the bone, Is this what it is to be free..?,
A rustle from branches, There's no second chances, I break from the tree, Oh why must it be , Our mothers forgotten of me..,
Now destined to drift, No hope, No assist, I lay in the grass for a bit.
The rain cools my veins, I shatter ..no pain, For the frost has left me in vain. my life cycles finished, For I have diminished, to particles that display my dismay....
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Post by Lisa Arnold on Nov 18, 2011 3:26:06 GMT -5
excellent poem!
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Post by johan on Nov 18, 2011 8:15:53 GMT -5
Great writing skill Sir, enjoyed this poem.
Johan
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