I knew you
I knew you when we were young
our roots barely held us in the loamy soil
our pale green leaves gently, tentatively unfurling
toward the sun
toward each other
but now we're old
and decaying
With each year, we shed our skin
sloughing off bark
dropping our brown withered leaves
slouching into winter
we hunker down
And each spring
the call to bud and renew is quieter
our trunk and stalks creak with the waking effort
we decay
there is no escape from entropy
and one day the loam and humus that birthed us
that even now feed and lift us up
will reclaim us
button caps will push their tendrils into our flesh
forcing apart our fibers
to let silverfish crawl within
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
I knew you
I knew you when we were young
our roots barely held us in the loamy soil
our pale green leaves gently, tentatively unfurling
toward the sun
toward each other
but now we're old
and decaying
With each year, we shed our skin
sloughing off bark
dropping our brown withered leaves
slouching into winter
we hunker down
And each spring
the call to bud and renew is quieter
our trunk and stalks creak with the waking effort
we decay
there is no escape from entropy
and one day the loam and humus that birthed us
that even now feed and lift us up
will reclaim us
button caps will push their tendrils into our flesh
forcing apart our fibers
to let silverfish crawl within