ND (19, April,1951 / kalubovila East, Sri Lanka)

The Old Tree

My flowers are not scented
and the strong odor butterflies don't like.
That's why I think they flew away.
My fruits are not ripen
and the bitter fruits birds don't like.
That's why I think they flew away.
My root is not so deep.
That's why the wind came
and fell me to the ground.


For Dave.......with affectionately.

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Comments (2)

There is much beauty in nature, it seems to have the gift of recycling itself. A great write Love Duncan
Very touching poem. I can still remember the giant elm trees that were so much a part of my younger years. One of them I still see in my dreams at times. Perhaps there is a special place where the old trees go when they outlive their usefulness. One can always hope... Regards, Sandra