The Still Tree, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Still Tree

The Still Tree

The nearly level sea so deadly still
As is the tree before me has no will
My mindless thoughts too are still and weary
I study the tree my eyes get dreary

With my eyes wide opened you are not there
Closed them tightly at your beauty I stare
There is brightness but there’s no moon or sun
Standing before me you’re the only one

Why behind the barren tree do you stand
It’s wistfully in the infertile sand
The tree of life it was longing to be
Is it to be a tale of woe for me

Speak much louder so that you I may hear
Your deep silence is what I truly fear
Will the next time you come for me to see
It is I who will be just like this tree