A poem that I wrote called
Twisted MoonTrees
In the darkness, everything is restless.
Even the trees’ branches dance in the moonlight.
The twisted hands of the trees reached for the moon.
As if the moon is the one and only source of life there is.
As the trees danced around the moon,
The ghostly clouds slowly covered the moon.
The tree’s branches stopped stretching,
And the wind moaned in horror.
The rain is here.
Little of the moon’s light escaped the grip of the clouds.
The clouds began to strangle the moon, and more rain fell.
The trees drooped down their branches in disappointment.
Winds began the whip at the tree in anger.
Moaning, and creaking, the tree tried to endure it.
Rain fell down harder, like silver bullets.
Now, the tree is at it’s lowest point.
There is no moon to guide them.
The tree glowered at the clouds,
And everything went black.
Nothing can be seen, not even the light of the sky.
All that was heard was the rain on the mud and leaves.
With the wind howling at the tree,
The rain only seemed to fall on the tree and around it.
The tree slowly lost it’s leaves to the ground.
The rain stomped on every leaf into the mud.
The moon heard the trees cries.
Glistening light shown through the clouds.
Everything stopped, everything was silent.
Reaching for the moon, again the tree tried.
Clawing at the sky, it reached the moon’s beams.
A rainbow appeared between the moon and the branches.
The road of the rainbow was a new path to life.
Another path for the tree to follow.
And down it went. Just like the rain.
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