Instead of studying, my brain is writing poetry now. So, here is a quick outlet of poetic thought, straight from finals week in my brain to you.
Trees are not graceful
though some seem to think they are.
They live as old souls
creaking and groaning
and whining and moaning and
woodenly doing
whatever they like.
Trees are angry ancient men
and women who miss
the Garden just as
much as we do and yet they
will never return
to its sweet fruits or
warm sunshine on branches- an
eternity cold.
