Facts Of Being Poem by RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Facts Of Being
Looking up into a tree, it's branches looking deadened,
scratching my eyes with their forlorn presence.
Taking away, thinking of their beauty once so much
appreciated, now hanging in the atmosphere, being seen
for what they now are.
To mind, they are still pretty in their deadened captivity,
touching an interior intellect, reminding of the same facts
that will one day touch my being with death.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/23/2024 10:43:20 AM # 1.0.0.1119
