Tree Poem by mercedes abrahamson

i see the tree that has stood there

with wined in its leafs blowing

but years centuries go by

the tree has not yet died

there is a field

across this field there sits a house

a house empty and bare aside from a single chair

a goat of a lonely man sits in this chair

he stars threw the windo at the tree

in disappointment he quitly weeps

knowing the tree will never change

never blooms never bare

as if its not really there as realty can not touch

as the treas in its bubble of fiction a bubble of despair

war realty can not touch ware it is unable to breath air

hiding from the world but yet seen

by a goat that weeps with his broken dream

to see the tree change

but no