The solitude it stands, a tree so tall,
Its branches weeping, leaves in a slow fall.
A heart once whole, now shattered, lies,
Yet within its roots, hope softly sighs.
Each ring tells a tale of love now lost,
Whispers of pain, like autumn’s frost.
Yet, with every sunrise, a chance to mend,
A broken heart, a sorrow to transcend.
Through seasons of sorrow, it bravely sways,
Branches reaching for brighter days.
Raindrops fall like tears from above,
Nourishing the soil, a symbol of love.
Blossoms bloom, a gentle rebirth,
Healing whispers carried by the earth.
The tree, a silent poet of grief,
Find solace in the breeze, a subtle relief.
As time unfurls, scars begin to fade,
A testament to strength, to love remade.
The tree, a mirror of the heart’s sweet pain,
Slowly heals, as sunlight breaks the chain.