Atop The Hill

Orange lights from beyond the horizon

Burning bright upon the darkened figure

And the earth’s shivering breath

Swaying away its arms in a soothing rhythm

The lonely tree upon the hill

Protecting its once lively village

Now it is stationary, like a chained dog

Looking through a fence which it can’t jump over

Its roots cut deeply into the soul of the ground

The more it grows, the closer it gets to the devils molten grasp

As it tries to spread its life essence

The seeds just leave a burning stain on the floor

As it sits still next to death, as he sways his feet 

Wrapped with thorny vines titling it soulless

Even as the suns feeds its rays to it

Even as the tears of the sky try to quench its thirst

The umbrella formed from its dead leaves and branches.

Make it all bounce off.

But I'm sure there was once a blossoming tree

Filled with little soldiers and with blissful fruit

I'm sure there was once a lustrous view

With the smell of Begonias overtaking the air.

But whatever happened to that tree?

It’s almost as if that burning rope mark

That took most of its skin

Has hanged people to their final dance.

But we continued to use it

As if it was a swing in a children’s playground

Given by how slanted it is

It’s almost as if it’s looking down upon us

Like a cat with its claws out

But without any strength to even beg for help.