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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2086447
Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #2086447
Growing up can be scary, till you notice those that help along the way.
Alone in a copse lies a sapling
struggling to grow amongst the giants gaze,
green, towering hands blotting out the sun,
preventing the sweet golden nectar of
which this little sapling urgently needs,
twisting and turning, to and fro
in its frustration to grasp at the light.
Days go by -
Nights pass on -
Weeks turn into months -
The sapling looking on as it grows.

Green sky bleeding away into orange,
red and yellow, falling like forgotten thoughts,
an unforgiving storm sends the colours
in flourishes as strong winds pull and tease,
long wooden claws digging deep, as the light
swallowed by the clouds builds irritation.
Days go by -
Nights pass on -
Weeks turn into months -
The sapling looking on as it grows.

All around spindly arms covered in snow
stretch high like intertwining skeletons,
pulling each other close, warm, protecting
the sapling that stands taller than before,
its growing annoyance as the cold bites,
weaving through the skeletal maze, snapping.
Days go by -
Nights pass on -
Weeks turn into months -
The sapling, now a tree, grows on.

Above, the sky can be seen within reach,
a pool of light shining sweetly atop,
amongst the waterfall of bright colours,
birds and bees dancing in eloquent twirls,
darting and splashing, haste taken all over -
The sapling - He all but stood still - Ignorant.
Days go by -
Nights pass on -
Weeks turn into months -
The sapling, now a tree, grows on.

Stretching to earth's corners is the blue sky
and all around are the once called giants,
standing like age old brothers newly found
sharing in the warm glow that bathes them all -

But he looks down,
........................... down,
................................... down, where the thrush lies,
New saplings can be seen, at last it's known.

The green hands of summer were a protection
from having too much of the suns nectar,
The autumn thoughts forgotten, wise whispers
to help in times of need when needed most,
The winter skeletons were a ribcage
protecting what was smallest and dearest,
The spring waterfall were a reminder
of how close he was to journeys end.

It was now his turn - The sapling now a tree.
© Copyright 2016 Daniel Costa (danielcosta at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2086447