Stretched against the purple sky
Hands shrivelled as if
Nestled amid friends
that have survived the autumn
The web of bare branches
not begging for sunshine
For it bears within, hidden from sight
roots working ceaseless
for the spring's blossoming
Rid of all the leaves
The boughs stand light
Sunset may be just another
sunrise not yet in sight
The spirit within each twig
will outlive the wintry chill/ night
To embrace the sunrise
moulting out of malaise
Who says a tree can't go places
every flower, each bough
and the twig that escapes it/ reaches earth/ soil
is a sojourn unto itself
(A story that's lived past
the cycle of life)
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