In the heart of a silent, ancient wood,
Two trees once soared, side by side they stood.
Roots entwined in the soil’s tender clasp,
Branches woven in a timeless grasp.

One tree, robust, with emerald might,
Its leaves a dance in the sun’s soft light.
But the other—oh, the other!—fades,
A slow decay in nature’s cruel parade.

Its bark now brittle, cracked like bone,
Once vibrant leaves to the earth are thrown,
Curling brown, a whispered plea,
As it withers, longing to be free.

Yet still the healthy tree leans near,
Its emerald boughs full of silent fear,
Reaching toward its dying kin,
As if love alone could pull it in.

The forest watches, breath held tight,
In twilight’s pale and ghostly light.
And still, the living one won’t release
Its fading lover from this endless peace.

For how can life persist, alone,
When heart and root together have grown?
In shared breaths of wind, in rain’s soft kiss—
How can one survive without the other’s bliss?

So they stand there, a tragic pair,
One green, one ghostly, beyond repair.
Yet the living tree refuses to sway,
As if to say: "I’ll hold you till I too decay"