Her bright eyes grew dim
Her ruddy cheeks grew pale
Her face like a dented kitchenware
Now a symbol of blighted loveliness
Sorrow buried in the recesses of her heart
She lets them cower and brood
Dormant fires,
Anytime may grow into a conflagration
Dry sorrow sucks her blood
Her sleep poisoned by melancholy
She has been a Moon
Now veiled by mist
Once she glowed with radiance and beauty
Now there is a wintry chill
Inside and outside
In the shade of a giant oak,
She grew from a tender tree,
To the pride and beauty of the grove
Graceful in form
Bright in foliage
But struck by
An unexpected pestilence
It is withering
Drooping its branches down
Shedding leaf by leaf
To fall down and rot
Like that shady oak, abruptly cut down!
Valsa George
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wilting-tree/
