The Poplar
Your branches stretch to the clouds,
each one clothed in your finest array.
Leaves of green, veins transparent,
dance in the shadows like a sweet ballet.
The life that pulsates through your being
begins where the roots lie, and your heart is beating.
Yet, there in the midst of your soul a hole is driven,
seen through and through,
your strength is proven.
You survive.
You go on.
You waste not your plight; it is your thorn,
and it will hold you as you mourn.
Through your grace and beauty you have taught me well,
as I carry a hole in my heart and there it will dwell.
cc 2024
Posted by VickieDawn 
accumulation 