Tree


An old tree rests in the backyard,
once a strong furnisher of the land,
It's now decaying as time has left it scarred,
as its majesty quickly reduces to sand.

Where are your strong branches?
That once fed fruits to the birds.

Where are your beautiful flowers?
They vanished, just like words.

An axe swings across the air,
Each chop, marking the end of life,
Uprooting misery and despair,
Empty now, the backyard lies.