Muse |
Muse |
I like it when it's sunny, It makes me feel alive; I like it when the trees are green, It means I can survive. But no, the trees are falling down, Too soon has autumn come around, The leaves are dying on the ground, Screaming out; there is no sound. No flutter of the heart as one skips through the dappled shade, Wrapt in the wonder of such beatific rays, Through the embracing green That we all should have seen, On those boughs; my, aren't they strong! Not able to sit among an elder and ponder, Nor to watch the clouds float by on a summer's breeze, When all the while you fly still in the trees. Of all the meaning in these gifts, We instead plump for mere pips, We strip the trunks bare and limit out air, Signing the death warrant before it's been ironed. Originally written in 2015, age 19
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AuthorSamantha is a doctoral researcher researching the power of figurative language in advertising, social media, and mobile technology. Copyright © 2022
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