Poetry
1 min
Composed
Cyris Leonard
The proud oak,
the once benign king,
Is now like bone, dried and picked clean.
And the fallen branch,
remorsefully abandoned,
Lies silently like a wilted angel's wing.
the once benign king,
Is now like bone, dried and picked clean.
And the fallen branch,
remorsefully abandoned,
Lies silently like a wilted angel's wing.
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