Tuesday, November 3, 2009

A Lone Oak

And the wind sunk through the tree up on the hill,
drifting alone by the pale, clouding sky.

Alone.
Alone as children in the basement.

Alone.
Alone as prisoners in the bottom cell.

Alone.
Alone as a naked, dangling light bulb.

And the clouds broke into the tree,
dousing the parted branches.

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