The Lone Tree

The Lone Tree

The tree, surrounded by nothing but patchy roughage, stands tall in the deserted forest. It remains motionless, despite the slight north-easterly breeze. From beneath the roughage, it extends towards the sun; it's branches desperately attempting to grasp the sky, like a hand's last endeavour to clutch air before succumbing to suffocation. The tree stays like this, oddly out of place and seemingly expecting disappointment. It's branches then wobble slightly as it falls into a brief but intense moment of solitary sadness before a tear trails down it's trunk, moving like an old steam train struggling to maintain the pace. As the lone tree weeps, a few leaves, worn-brown and pod-like in form, take flight only to meet their disintegrative death upon earthly impact. This tree knows little other then loss and isolation. For the remainder of life, it's roots will remain firmly implanted and strong but never will the lone tree grasp that desirable ray of happiness.