The Trees: A Poem


It was the trees placed in their particular way

That made me notice the house one day

They incased it in an odd u shape

Lingering, creeping, like a crooked face

The house had fallen years ago

The trees stood staring never letting go

Death was in the ground like a poison seeping in

The trees hung like shrouds letting death soak like sin

Life grew around it like a tease in the night

Telling death to come closer to the light

It’s all too eerie to tear it all down

Like a bride never shredding the gown

You stare and you wonder what it’s like for the trees

To let everything they touch cease to be.

Along the highway, on my way to work, a group of trees partially circle a fallen house. Everything around it is dead. It’s the inspiration for this poem.

Let it out... we are all listening.

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