Surprise Party

Dear old friends:
I am flushed
And dressed in white.

Gently anchored down
By roots
And laughing eyes.

You crown me
In laurel – in affection,
You dress me.

But it is summer here.
This warmth
No longer suits me.

Me leaves to the floor –
One by one
Silently fall.

I should be red and raw,
My magnificence
Inspire awe;

As breathless,
My branches touch the heavens.
But my golden fruits I cannot gift

To you my friends,
As I await the winter drift.
Infinitely still.

As Daphne, I am ill.



ramblings on creativity, mental health and a malfunctioning society.

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