by P.J.Reed
The silver birch ripples
As soft shadows race;
Leave dark footprints
Through its hidden soul.
Timid, trembling leaves,
Confetti sprinkled
On swaying brown tendrils
Flowing softly in the breeze.
The birch stands tall,
Straining over rooftops,
Silently watching
The people pass by.
From seed inception
Fated to become
A silent, living statuary.
Or had it the choice to be
A hidden, dark leaved
Forest tree
Or perhaps in some distant world,
Its greenery was never
Meant to be
But could a softly swaying
High street tree
Choose a different
Place to be?
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ABOUT THE POET ~
P.J.Reed is a writer and dark romantic poet. She has been published in numerous anthologies and collections. She specialises in speculative fiction, writing mainly Dark Romantic and Gothic Horror poetry. Her work is featured in many anthologies and essay writing guides. Her first collection of work is entitled "The Wicked Come" and available from Amazon and all good bookshops.
Last updated April 30, 2015