Living with the leaves of a dying tree
I try to imagine what John Lennon
Felt about the worth of the other three
As they all used a different pennon.
Living with the twigs of a tree bygone
I try to foresee what Anthi would write
On Sunday morning as a first add-on
To her initial take on her mind’s bite.
Living with a tree’s fading memory
I try to remember its long brief stay
Below the Sun we love in reverie
As it disappears at the end of day.
Living with myself and many stories
I know the words are laboratories.
About the Creator
Patrick M. Ohana
A medical writer who reads and writes fiction and some nonfiction, although the latter may appear at times like the former. Most of my pieces (over 2,200) are or will be available on Shakespeare's Shoes.
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