Prune Shaped Symphony Poem by Kewayne Wadley

A tearful symphony, the sound of your voice,
Once happy, full of glee,
Now a bitter stinch, that stings the senses,
In my heart, I still hear the symphony of your voice, proud,
Like a tree, standing still in the midst of anything that faultered any emotion, other than joy In it's presence,
The leaves, like a roof,
Swaying below the clouds, the times have changed,
As this tearful symphony, moans whenever you begin to speak,
Where once stood this magnificent tree,
Has become a hollowed,
Withered up, prune