The book <br />at the used book store <br />had a leaf pressed between its pages, <br />its veins showing; <br />pressed flat <br />and brown; <br />an unwilling bookmark- <br />the pages of the ages. <br /> <br />The tree <br />its mother, <br />died for those pages <br /> <br />her offspring <br />flattened out <br />upon mother's page breast <br />tiny lines and squiggles <br />between the veins; <br />no tree can read <br />no leaf can comprehend. <br /> <br />I take the leaf to give it a proper burial <br />in the compost heap <br />so that its remains <br />have a small chance <br />of one day <br />becoming part of a tree. <br /> <br />I lay its leafy body down <br />thinking; <br />'I think I shall never see <br />anything a lovely as a tree.' <br />In years <br />a bookmark it will make <br />upon my backyard landscape <br />marking Nature's Chapter entitled <br />'Ironies.' <br /> <br /> <br />.<br /><br />Lonnie Hicks<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-book-trees-and-leaves/
