| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
| ||||||||||
|
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| >> Static Item >> Poetry >> Nature >> ID #1619773 |
| |||||||||||||
|
That tree
that has fallen to the ground; its leaves stripped by hail; its trunk twisted by wind; and hollowed out by a streak of rot. That tree, I wonder, what are its apples like?
© Copyright 2009 Violinist Puppy (UN: doggy at Writing.Com).
All rights reserved.
Violinist Puppy has granted Writing.Com, its affiliates and syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work. |