A Small Tree
Small tree not a sapling,
Broken and cut limbs.
A single robin sets
At the tip,
For it is home
Swaying back and forth.
The wind coming from the north.
The sad tree naked and vulnerable
Will never be mobile.
Unlike the robin that’s free.
It’s roots grow deep
As deep can be
Threw the red mulch
Which will be
An unwanted future
For this tree
Poetry is not the expression of personality but an escape from personality.
T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
|---|---|---|
| Title | Comments | Submitted |
| One Last Breath | 1 | 01/14/2012 |
| A Small Tree | 1 | 04/07/2011 |
| theme for english III | 1 | 03/17/2011 |
| My sole tore | 1 | 12/07/2009 |
| life and death | 1 | 12/07/2009 |
| Regret | 2 | 02/21/2009 |
| Rescue me | 1 | 02/21/2009 |
| All for you | -13 | 02/21/2009 |
| waiting for you | 0 | 02/21/2009 |
| a lost friend | 2 | 02/21/2009 |
| FATE | 1 | 02/21/2009 |
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