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Rated: · Poetry · Nature · #1734915
good things must come to an end so we must cherish it/ also things aren't as they appear.
Morning sun risen,
Brings light above a hill.
There stands a tree
fiery vibrance, it is still.

Strongly rooted to the ground,
It's beauty the light captured;
With the wind it makes a sound
It's rhythm so moving
A heart may rapture.

We dance, we sway
to our mothers song
Until the night falls,
The day has far gone.

Morning sun risen,
Brings light above this hill,
There stands a tree,
Leaf-less and shrill.

Wind runs through
It's branches shiver;
We hear it pass,silence,
Then the dancing of the river.

We lie on the grass
under this tree;
A tear down our cheeks,
In mourn of former glory.

Nightfalls once more
Bark cool under my hands;
Wind kisses my skin,
Farewell sweet romance.
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