Divena Collins

Withering Heights....Italian Sonnet

The bark of a tree that speaks of age
Deep furrowed lines lay within the girth
Mirrored an image years past of birth
Within leaves of mother natures page
Bound with moss from a bygone sage
That arose from roots within the earth
Moisture therein that remained dearth
From years of plenty with much usage
Once when a sapling had grown strong
From a tiny seedling the wind had blown
That settled in the soil there to belong
Thro' long years the tree had outgrown
Why on this earth did things go wrong
When trees flourished birds had flown.



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