astraea,
The lone dying tree summons me
But chains of lassitude
Bind my feet unto the cold concrete floor
The heaven’s howling gave a storm warning
Then through the moldy window I see
The lone dying tree amongst gray strikes of lightning
I slept upon the lullaby of thunders
Dreamt about the prime of life I missed in my youth
Then cursed the senility brought about by age
When my eyes opened to the unbidden sun
I was greeted by a sight that I thought
Would never come out of its grave
The lone tree, once again, summons me
It waits patiently with roots
Bound to the warm moist soil
Its luster of green gradually revives
The tree is turning into a state
I should have revered decades ago
Now, before the flowers dwindle into buds
I would not miss the chance
To heed the call of the seemingly young tree
But I can’t
With my feet still bound
On the cold concrete floor
Literary: The Cold Concrete Floor
The lone dying tree summons me
But chains of lassitude
Bind my feet unto the cold concrete floor
The heaven’s howling gave a storm warning
Then through the moldy window I see
The lone dying tree amongst gray strikes of lightning
I slept upon the lullaby of thunders
Dreamt about the prime of life I missed in my youth
Then cursed the senility brought about by age
When my eyes opened to the unbidden sun
I was greeted by a sight that I thought
Would never come out of its grave
The lone tree, once again, summons me
It waits patiently with roots
Bound to the warm moist soil
Its luster of green gradually revives
The tree is turning into a state
I should have revered decades ago
Now, before the flowers dwindle into buds
I would not miss the chance
To heed the call of the seemingly young tree
But I can’t
With my feet still bound
On the cold concrete floor
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