Wilting Tree

Her bright eyes grew dim Her ruddy cheeks grew pale Her face like a dented kitchenware Now a symbol of blighted loveliness Sorrow buried in the recesses of her heart She lets them cower and brood Dormant fires, Anytime may grow into a conflagration Dry sorrow sucks her blood Her sleep poisoned by melancholy She has been a Moon Now veiled by mist Once she glowed with radiance and beauty Now there is a wintry chill Inside and outside In the shade of a giant oak, She grew from a tender tree, To the pride and beauty of the grove Graceful in form Bright in foliage But struck by An unexpected pestilence It is withering Drooping its branches down Shedding leaf by leaf To fall down and rot Like that shady oak, abruptly cut down!