Look at me
O withered tree,
I’d read you like a book,
Your fallen branches woo me,
They pull me to have a better look.
What secrets do you hide?
What times have your branches seen?
Through people passing,
Through seasons changing,
While steady you have been.
You attempt to scare young kids,
your pleas were never heard.
You think of freedom,
you stand with patience,
While watching the perching birds.
I crave to fly in the open skies,
Do you also wish to be free?
Our reality’s different,
Our wishes alike,
But answer me, O withered tree.
– Shereen A. Mir ( @fromlifetoshereen )