Forsaken by nature

In the dense, fog-choked woods, a sapling sways—

Its roots cling to barren soil,

Invisible, it seeks nourishment from the cracked earth,

A whisper among giants.

The storm clouds pass unburdened,

Leaving the tree’s hollow silhouette—

No rain for the thirsting bark,

Only the distant thunder of promises broken.

Amidst the chill of autumn’s breath,

Leaves fall like whispers of unspoken grief,

Turning to dust upon the forest floor,

Cloaked in a mourning mist.

A river, indifferent and swift,

Tumbles over jagged stones—

It courses past the sapling’s shade,

Unmoved by the silent plea for touch.

In the hollows of the branches,

Loneliness drapes its velvet shroud—

Where sunlight fails to reach,

The heart aches in muted splendor.

Thus, the sapling grows,

Bent yet unyielding,

Under the indifferent gaze of the sky—

A testament to love unreceived.