I see its branches swing in the air, left unabide,
its sandy leaves of brown cling like the tide.
The violet sky above paints a cloudless stride,
while the moss left in the twigs leaves it to be dried.
As I stare out while the windows are at place,
I cannot help but get lost within its grace.
With its prickly bark my fingers softly trace,
I yearn for my arms to correlate an embrace.
However I yearn, there is no return,
to the seat where the sounds can't surround thee.
Yet in the land where I learn, emotions baffled to burn,
I wish to hug the Lonely Tree.
I see its branches swing in the air, left unabide,
its sandy leaves of brown cling like the tide.
The violet sky above paints a cloudless stride,
while the moss left in the twigs leaves it to be dried.
As I stare out while the windows are at place,
I cannot help but get lost within its grace.
With its prickly bark my fingers softly trace,
I yearn for my arms to correlate an embrace.
However I yearn, there is no return,
to the seat where the sounds can't surround thee.
Yet in the land where I learn, emotions baffled to burn,
I wish to hug the Lonely Tree.
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