The brittle twigs upon the bough <br />So frail that surely time must break, <br />As now this elm bereft of life <br />Can't brave the winds no more, <br />The bark hangs limply from the trunk <br />With every gust a piece does fall, <br />For ridden with that cruel disease <br />Of fungus beetle bore. <br /> <br />Yet in defiance it does stand <br />Alone within this furrowed field, <br />And casts its shadow on the ground <br />Although so faint and weak, <br />The view has changed since when a child <br />I gazed across this land before, <br />For now there's only emptiness <br />The scene so dull and bleak. <br /> <br />For spring shall never come again <br />Nor shall the leaves adorn the branch, <br />Where once it stood so proudly and <br />Did offer peaceful shade, <br />Its shape and form that graced the way <br />Now stripped of all its dignity, <br />With nothing more to offer but <br />The memories that it made. <br /> <br />The victim of that dreadful plague <br />That spread throughout the countryside, <br />The scars of which shall never heal <br />The wounds will always stay, <br />As evening falls this tree remains <br />Its silhouette against the sky, <br />Forever winter it shall be <br />As now the years decay.<br /><br />ANDREW BLAKEMORE<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/brittle-twigs/
