The Tree in My Yard
There was a tree in my yard dead on the inside but you couldn’t tell.
It stood tall, like it had something to prove— like it remembered how.
Its branches still reached out. It still held nests, still gave shelter, still danced when the wind passed through.
The leaves were green. The bark unbroken.
But inside, quiet rot. The kind that starts small, then takes everything slowly.
No one knew until someone opened it up.
And by then, it had carried more life than anyone realized— even in the middle of dying.
But it was too late. The tree was dead. A ghost of its former self, and it will never be the same no matter how hard it tries.
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Author:
Vanna (
Offline) - Published: June 24th, 2025 12:00
- Comment from author about the poem: Based off the tree in my yard and how I think what it would feel if it could feel like us.
- Category: Sad
- Views: 13
Offline)
Comments3
A great metaphor that speaks about us as well. Nicely written with great images all that apply in this process of quiet rot. Nicely done
A lovely write of appearance's can be deceiving, as in with us all can look ok on the outside but inside we have died, nicely expressed and written
Excellent write
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