Swaying Trees on a Lonely Island
By Max T
Published 1 August 2024
On a lonely island, a tree sat,
Waiting, sad and silent,
Watching birds come and go.
Hot burning sand cooking my roots
As I reach for crystal-clear water.
As I start to dry up,
A gush of water from the ocean,
Giving life a little lonely sprout,
Sprung up and out.
And then I knew it wasn’t a lonely island anymore.
But more and more keep coming,
And soon will bring the people back,
Cut us to our last leaf.