Some everyday things leave their marks.
It stands there, stark against the gray skies.
Searching the heavens with sightless eyes.
Recalling days long since past and gone.
When its special beauty greeted each dawn.
When its dress was verdant shades of green.
Its lifeblood flowed freely but unseen.
Such memories are just a lost goal.
Time has extracted its certain toll.
Still, its stateliness remains aloof,
And its grandeur is beyond reproof.
The old tree is no longer living,
But its undraped shape is still giving.
If only we could mimic the tree,
And leave a mark for others to see.