poem: sway


Sway

I hear the rustle of fallen loves
and remember
the fragrance of your silken blossoms.

Beneath your parched stillness,
roots cleave stubbornly to earth,
resistant to the winds.

But I can hear the great ache
of your branches creaking,
shaken by the loneliness of night.

————

rhon drinkwater © 2008

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