The Tree


The seed sits in the field

thristy for water

begging for sun light

A drop of water moists into dry skin

softens its body

another drop falls

                   followed by another

                                    and another

The seed is swollen an is pushed out of the dark and silent womb of the earth

All the while, and old tree withers away

          Its branchesare taken away

                      Then its trunk

All that remains it the trunk

Years go by and the small seed now has branches and fruit of its own

It drops a fruit that is barried in the earth

It grows old and begins to wither

A man walks up a hill, carying a canteen

    He knocks it over and the water is pours on the ground

He puts it next to the stump and sits

             the thick blade shines in the sun

              the seed drinks the water and begins to sprout

The man walks away, leaving the two stumps to watch the sprout grow









Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741