A.N. This I wrote whilst sat in French and staring out the window. Yup.
French is a very inspirational (or maybe just boring) lesson for me. I
pictured myself or maybe my heart as the tree. If you want to know the
brief story of why this poem is so depressing.well I blame it on the man I
loved dumping me. That was 4 months ago and I still haven't got over him
yet.
A TREE
A tree
In the middle of winter,
Dead.
Waiting with an undying hope,
For spring to come again
Envious of its evergreen friends
Deprived protection from the winter's breeze
Memories of the hazy summer
When it stood tall and proud
In it's prime
Now lies dormant
Dead,
In the middle of winter,
A tree.