Blossoms of trees taken by cruel breeze. No wonder naked tree limbs flail, clink and clank amongst each other, looking for their flowers lost in midnight showers and gusts.
No wonder leaves are called leaves…
Leave once a tinch of brisk ether grazes their epidermis.
You too, flee, like the leaver you are, when the temperature isn’t just right.
Unattached, you’ll decay. That’s all deceiving, deserting ever does…
It withers the insides, until only the mind is left to guide, a hollowed out heart.
Eva PoeteX © 2016