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The Circle

A Poem

By The Eight Ball KidPublished 6 years ago 1 min read
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Alone a tree stands on a hill,

not knowing of great nature’s will.

It stands up straight with joy and pride,

not knowing what waits when spring time hides.

Leaves shimmer and gleam with pure delight,

basking in the noon time light.

It greets the birds with open arms,

urging them to do no harm.

Summer comes it gets hotter and hotter,

the little lone tree starts choking for water.

The lush grass at its feet dries up and dies,

as the sun sends beams from the cloudless skies.

Then it got worse when fall came around,

when all of its leaves fell to the ground.

Sure it was cooler but all its friends left,

seeking the warmth as snow started to drift.

Springtime came, it grew warmer and bright,

the little tree’s leaves grew back with delight.

Then a storm grew the tree shaking with fear,

the lightning grew close the tree started to jeer.

Finally it hit with a BOOM and a CRASH,

the lightning sent flames running down the tree’s back.

It finally gave with a thundering fall,

sending up flames and a great fireball.

The fire receded but all that remained,

was a lone little seed, soaking the rain.

nature poetry
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