The BREEZE and the TREE

[Sensely]

I stood by my window,
Witnessing gold outside,
Opened the door to conversation,
Spoke with trees, far and wide.

A gentle breeze brushed my skin,
I asked the tree, like an old friend,
How does it feel when a child departs,
Leaving you alone to face the end?

The tree smiled, silent and wise,
A wrinkled face, no tears in sight.
Yet in its eyes, a sorrow grew,
As the breeze whispered, soft and true.

Then came the breeze, tender yet sharp,
Carrying away the leaves, a part,
The joy I felt now seemed a thorn,
For the breeze had left the tree forlorn.

I asked, Why do you weep, dear tree?
Take back your leaves, don't let them flee!
The tree replied with a voice so deep,
They were dead, but I held them to keep.

The breeze, though harsh, was kind, you see,
It helped me shed the past with ease.
It knows the truth and clears the air,
And now I sleep, without a care.

So the tree, with sorrow in its eyes,
Rested beneath the winter skies.
Its tears had fallen, yet it knew,
The breeze had come to make it true.

 

[ｊａｘｏｎ]

I stood by my window,
Witnessing gold outside,
Opened the door to conversation,
Spoke with trees, far and wide.

A gentle breeze brushed my skin,
I asked the tree, like an old friend,
How does it feel when a child departs,
Leaving you alone to face the end?

The tree smiled, silent and wise,
A wrinkled face, no tears in sight.
Yet in its eyes, a sorrow grew,
As the breeze whispered, soft and true.

Then came the breeze, tender yet sharp,
Carrying away the leaves, a part,
The joy I felt now seemed a thorn,
For the breeze had left the tree forlorn.

I asked, Why do you weep, dear tree?
Take back your leaves, don't let them flee!
The tree replied with a voice so deep,
They were dead, but I held them to keep.

The breeze, though harsh, was kind, you see,
It helped me shed the past with ease.
It knows the truth and clears the air,
And now I sleep, without a care.

So the tree, with sorrow in its eyes,
Rested beneath the winter skies.
Its tears had fallen, yet it knew,
The breeze had come to make it true.

Felt like a Kid again while reading.
&
My imagination was in child universe of moral stories.
​

 

[Anshhi]

I stood by my window,
Witnessing gold outside,
Opened the door to conversation,
Spoke with trees, far and wide.

A gentle breeze brushed my skin,
I asked the tree, like an old friend,
How does it feel when a child departs,
Leaving you alone to face the end?

The tree smiled, silent and wise,
A wrinkled face, no tears in sight.
Yet in its eyes, a sorrow grew,
As the breeze whispered, soft and true.

Then came the breeze, tender yet sharp,
Carrying away the leaves, a part,
The joy I felt now seemed a thorn,
For the breeze had left the tree forlorn.

I asked, Why do you weep, dear tree?
Take back your leaves, don't let them flee!
The tree replied with a voice so deep,
They were dead, but I held them to keep.

The breeze, though harsh, was kind, you see,
It helped me shed the past with ease.
It knows the truth and clears the air,
And now I sleep, without a care.

So the tree, with sorrow in its eyes,
Rested beneath the winter skies.
Its tears had fallen, yet it knew,
The breeze had come to make it true.

 

[ℇlαᖇα]

I stood by my window,
Witnessing gold outside,
Opened the door to conversation,
Spoke with trees, far and wide.

A gentle breeze brushed my skin,
I asked the tree, like an old friend,
How does it feel when a child departs,
Leaving you alone to face the end?

The tree smiled, silent and wise,
A wrinkled face, no tears in sight.
Yet in its eyes, a sorrow grew,
As the breeze whispered, soft and true.

Then came the breeze, tender yet sharp,
Carrying away the leaves, a part,
The joy I felt now seemed a thorn,
For the breeze had left the tree forlorn.

I asked, Why do you weep, dear tree?
Take back your leaves, don't let them flee!
The tree replied with a voice so deep,
They were dead, but I held them to keep.

The breeze, though harsh, was kind, you see,
It helped me shed the past with ease.
It knows the truth and clears the air,
And now I sleep, without a care.

So the tree, with sorrow in its eyes,
Rested beneath the winter skies.
Its tears had fallen, yet it knew,
The breeze had come to make it true.

Really-really cool narrative. Happy for, u have taken time to make scribbles again Expecting more poems from your part hun: )

 

[Sensely]

Really-really cool narrative. Happy for, u have taken time to make scribbles again Expecting more poems from your part hun: )

Thanks miss xx

 

[SiRa]

What I liked most is that it’s in simple language that someone like me can easily understand.
Beautiful @Sensely

 

[Dom55]

I stood by my window,
Witnessing gold outside,
Opened the door to conversation,
Spoke with trees, far and wide.

A gentle breeze brushed my skin,
I asked the tree, like an old friend,
How does it feel when a child departs,
Leaving you alone to face the end?

The tree smiled, silent and wise,
A wrinkled face, no tears in sight.
Yet in its eyes, a sorrow grew,
As the breeze whispered, soft and true.

Then came the breeze, tender yet sharp,
Carrying away the leaves, a part,
The joy I felt now seemed a thorn,
For the breeze had left the tree forlorn.

I asked, Why do you weep, dear tree?
Take back your leaves, don't let them flee!
The tree replied with a voice so deep,
They were dead, but I held them to keep.

The breeze, though harsh, was kind, you see,
It helped me shed the past with ease.
It knows the truth and clears the air,
And now I sleep, without a care.

So the tree, with sorrow in its eyes,
Rested beneath the winter skies.
Its tears had fallen, yet it knew,
The breeze had come to make it true.

cool

 

[Shajfurious]

I stood by my window,
Witnessing gold outside,
Opened the door to conversation,
Spoke with trees, far and wide.

A gentle breeze brushed my skin,
I asked the tree, like an old friend,
How does it feel when a child departs,
Leaving you alone to face the end?

The tree smiled, silent and wise,
A wrinkled face, no tears in sight.
Yet in its eyes, a sorrow grew,
As the breeze whispered, soft and true.

Then came the breeze, tender yet sharp,
Carrying away the leaves, a part,
The joy I felt now seemed a thorn,
For the breeze had left the tree forlorn.

I asked, Why do you weep, dear tree?
Take back your leaves, don't let them flee!
The tree replied with a voice so deep,
They were dead, but I held them to keep.

The breeze, though harsh, was kind, you see,
It helped me shed the past with ease.
It knows the truth and clears the air,
And now I sleep, without a care.

So the tree, with sorrow in its eyes,
Rested beneath the winter skies.
Its tears had fallen, yet it knew,
The breeze had come to make it true.