I stand alone under the stars.
Alone on the purple carpet.
Gazing off into the distance.
Waiting for others like me.
Ones who grow stronger in the wind.
Who lift their leaves to the sun.
Who aren’t afraid to be different.
Come and join me.
We will grow true and green.
Desolate.
Alone.
Stark.
Cold.
Empty.
Sitting on a hill.
No houses nearby.
Only the comfort
of a bare tree.
The wind rattles
through my open beams.
Snow drifts in from my roof.
No peace.
Only cold.
And deafening silence.
Will it always be so?
Will the sun shine ever again?
Will horses return to my stables?
I could only wait and hope.
k
by belu gheorghe
A small cabin perched on a green hill.
The closest house is on the nearby hill.
Quiet rules the day.
The sun shines bright and clear.
The wind ruffles the slope of green grass.
The lone tree beckons for someone to
sit beneath it.
To sit in its shade with a book in one hand
and a glass of lemonade in the other.
Come and join my dream.
