Dews that once felt like pearls in my dense green foliage now
feel so heavy and cold on lone leafless branches after years of
bearing flowers and buds the last leaves are taking departure
into the murky Brook by my stump. All my prior endeavours
to live up to distinct seasons graceful years of swaying and
meandering has diminished youthful ardour into this feeble
being my trunk is parched and I am fatigued to quench my
thirst. I have not a flower nor a fruit to offer been ages since a
bird came in to warble. Now I live in persisting moments of
agony there is not one shoulder to unwind my tired glory
solitude has been my only companion also, the shallow Brook
alleviated the desolation. I am left with my only longing to
carry my state of despair and misery and glide onto the
interminable stream that will forever flow with my memory.