Just a single tree standing against the clouded backdrop. Who does it whisper to.
With the summer clothes cast
I stand with limps out stretched
Against the painted morning sky
Around me a carpet glistens
like stars laying at my feet
Only whispers from my kin reach me now,
Where limps once touched
across the country wide.
When the winds played,
the rattle of our tongue could be heard.
Now alone I stand
limbs still reach but no touch to be had
No kin with in reach,
Oh to be touched in my last day’s
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