The pollen in the water, sitting still as can be.

People walk past, stepping on sticks.

Different dazzling colours,

Of orange and green.

Shapes and sizes,

All of them are unique.

The smell of the air,

Fresh, fresh as can be.

The rain that comes down,

It is like a flash.

The drain that drained,

The pollen in the water,

It is now all gone.

The last bit of the pollen,

From my favourite tree,

It is now still standing.

With wet branches.

Sitting in silence,

Under my unique tree.

Saying silently goodbye.