Come to me at the old oak tree,
Where the ravens dawdle and play.
Come to me at the old oak tree,
When the world has gone black and grey.
Remember there, the old oak tree?
As children we played and laughed.
Remember me, at the old oak tree?
The day I died and left.
Forever, you promised at the old oak tree.
"Forever! Beyond!" you would say.
I cry as I wait at the old oak tree,
For the love lost in a day.
Come back to me at the old oak tree;
The world has lost its shine.
You took your life at the old oak tree,
The same as you took mine.
Comments
Oh. My. Word. This is a
Oh. My. Word. This is a masterpiece!!! The last two lines are perfection. You need to consider publishing a book of poetry some day.
I don’t thrive off of chaos: chaos thrives off of me.
*blushes*
Thank you for that! I will say, however, that I find poetry to be more of a hobby, and publishing it might be more of my time than is worth it at this point. I did submit this piece to the magazine for the college I'm attending right now, and they said they would email me in the spring semester to tell me if I made it. Looking forward to hearing about that!
insert something inspiring
Ooh! I hope you do make it.
Ooh! I hope you do make it. Hmm, yeah. I mean my poetry is a hobby, too, but I guess I see it as a gift given to me to give back. Part of giving it back is encouraging others with it (at least in my eyes, for my own works). I'm praying about publishing some.
I don’t thrive off of chaos: chaos thrives off of me.
This is good. Your images
This is good. Your images were very vivid!
"You were not meant to fit into a shallow box built by someone else." -J. Raymond