The tree smells like petrichor in a forest full of lost hope and memories. The tree tastes like old berries macerated into a thick liquid. The tree looks like twisted branches reaching desperately towards the sky. The tree feels like gnarled bark beneath one’s fingers The tree sounds like a bird which sings no more.
I had to write a poem for school only to find out I based it on the wrong setting of a book, so I decided to post it here. (Petrichor is the smell of rain.)