My backyard tree

I stand alone.
Surrounded by only the sky
I withhold thousands of stories shown through my marked canvas,
Yet I'm unable to share them my leaves dance with the cool breeze as children play in the distance.

Time passes.
The children stop playing and begin to disappear.
One.
By.
One.

My branches have started to wilt,
golden flakes fall in my love-filled eyes.
Seasons pass.
Years go by.
Nobody comes to visit me anymore.
Alone.
I stand.