The dying tree
May appear dead but not Naked but living Weak but breathing Alone but alive I remember the days with leaves I was planted in the rain never heard drought Clothed with leaves of many colours They covered and protected me from the scourging sun They never allow the rain to beat me I flowered in Winter Many came and sang about my beauty They all told me how good I was but said nothing about my ugliness in summer Gradually my flowers became fruits This brought joy to my smiling heart With my fruits
