‘The tree and an old maid’
There’s a tree in my isolated back-yard,
Yellow, pastel, bowed, stem sick and shard,
Once emerald leaves shrunken with time,
Once rich life taken out, eaten by our crime,
Branches thin, trying feebly to reach the space,
Leaves dim olive, fighting the wind’s burly chase,
Fruits exploited, dejected, no one to mend,
Roots bled dry, lifeless, waiting for a sad end,
Come the third day, with a gentle storm, it dies,
Its leaves shed, free from all its hindering ties,
A tree in my backyard, reminding me of an old maid,
Waiting to escape the cruel strings of the world.
A/N: –Rhyming couplets – Ah, my favorite, even though I don’t rhyme often. In poetry, a couplet is a pair of lines. Typically, they rhyme and have the same meter.