Who Did The Trees Vote For? Poem by Soran M. H

The feet long for rest.
Who will remove those heavy Combat Boots?
A hand strums music,
Another sketches,
Another writes poetry,
one has broken away from its source.

Among the hands in stock exchange frenzy,
Some have vanished, drifting into oblivion.
The feet still yearn for relief.
Who will take off those weary Combat Boots?

A child turns to his mother and says,
'Bring down that glowing banana hanging high,
shimmering like a beacon in the sky.'
In the shadows of this world, its golden ray
streams softly through the window,
landing gently on the paper where these words are born.