Ash Tree
Birds prey on my fruit;
Kids play in my shade and use
People all my parts.
Why do you be, from
Me, away? Come to my shade,
Lonely when you feel.
Now I grow old, my
Looks lose luster, all that are
My pals, dessert me.
Young of us, youths choose;
Creases will conquer charm of
Both, pale will grow bark.
Your Tree Ash am
I; coarse now becomes my bark,
I lose my splendor.
Roughness, not my fault
Ruining my lure brings wrinkles,
Time on handsome me.
Picture From Google
Picture From Google
http://chevrefeuillescarpediem.blogspot.in/
Unique style, bravo!
ReplyDeleteThank you,humbird.
ReplyDeleteTally did like this concept
ReplyDeleteThank you,Foresteer.
Deletebeautiful about old age
ReplyDeletebeautiful poem about old age
ReplyDeleteThank you, sm.
DeleteVery interesting approach
ReplyDeleteThank you,Janice.
ReplyDeleteThis is a nice poem.
ReplyDeleteThank you,Kirti.
DeleteSMALL BUT NICE ..BEAUTIFUL . ESPECIALLY THE LAST PARA I LIKED MOST
ReplyDeleteThank you,Seena.
DeleteVERY GOOD .SMALL NICE AND BEAUTIFUL
ReplyDeleteThank you.
DeleteGood poem and that pic is apt
ReplyDeleteThank you,Sujatha.
ReplyDelete