A poem for the dead, for loved ones, to remind us that trees are more than just random atoms.

Image Credit: 
Public Domain


Stop. Be still. Listen.
Can you hear them?
The wind releases an uncommon poetry
Of carbonised lives.
Lost voices hidden there,
In a sea of Autumn colours.

The remnants of those we remember,
Offering us sweet and gentle persuasions;
They return their long-lost love.
Gentle, loving kisses falling to the forest floor,
Preserved as they are
In a thousand ancient trees.

Hush they say,
Hush now and be calm.
We are yet alive to your ears.
Stop. Be still. Listen.
Sleep under our loving memories.
Our dying breaths
Trapped for all who want to hear.

GPD has been writing for many, many years, under many, many aliases, all of which lend character to their distinctive writing style.

Join the Discussion

Please ensure all comments abide by the Thanet Writers Comments Policy

1 Comment

Add a Comment