Constance's Tree - Poem by Sonny Rainshine
You’re always dropping things—
friends, lovers, world view—
just as in November deciduous trees
reduce their sap and strew
their cloaks of leaves and fruits and nuts
merciless to the ground below.
And like the unremorseful tree,
you never weep or know
feelings of regret
only a sense of lightness
Look then down at last year’s leaves,
we whom you have done with.
There will come a time
when those you’ve had fun with
and cast aside will remember
your rejections and phoniness
and you’ll live the rest of your life
in isolation and loneliness.
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