Oak Tree, Midst Life's Outcast Vision Poem by james watkin

Oak Tree, Midst Life's Outcast Vision



Even they, cynical of heart
Coolly unresponsive
Do feel it. Its indwelling strength.
Alive, warmly alive!

Its shade, as sturdy, comforting
Through each storm, flinches not
To what dim seen, from out their own
Pain, darkly raging
Comfortless, blow as waste therein.
Woeful wetted. Forgot.

Friday, July 8, 2022
Topic(s) of this poem: outcast,tree
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james watkin

james watkin

Melbourne Australia
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