The Mystery of a Summer Night, a poem by Robert A. Sieczkiewicz

The Mystery of a Summer NightThe Mystery of a Summer Night, Edvard Munch (1892)

The Mystery of a Summer Night

In the sense of time it wasn’t long ago
That I stood tall casting billowing shade
A place where some would rest to see the sea
But like tired humans I began to fail

At a point in time my leaves became less
The winter winds tortured my sagging arms
Causing a never ending strain and pain
Finally there’s no golden leaves to fall

Still standing the wind continued its war
Little by little tore away my skin
Naked I’m a violin to the wind
Creating soft sounds as the she flies through

Then came the horror of menacing roar
With its hungry teeth the saw cut me down
What remains is a comfortable seat
For visitors to watch the setting sun

But willingly I have left so much more
Having sent my roots in all directions
Traveling far they are my legacy
Holding the soil together with arms