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~ Poetry by me ~
Tree of Time
On the Tree of Time, every day is a leaf,
The nights are flowers that blossom too brief;
Each twig is a week, a month is each bough,
Through branches of years a cold wind does sough.
The trunk sheds centuries off its rough bark,
And all that falls down is consumed by the dark;
The Tree is well-known, but none yet did see
Its roots that arise from Eternity.
© Michaela Macha
License: This poem may be freely distributed, provided it remains
unchanged, including the copyright notice and this License:
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