NaPoWriMo – Day 18

The dead trees are still beautiful
in the sunshine,
what is torn down
and burnt away
still bright with energy
as new growth is nurtured
so far from the urban sprawl
I was so used to,
the cloying of cars and crowds
like a second skin
one you barely you notice you wear
until you shed it.
Wearing it once more,
returning to that den
it becomes heavy and hurtful
pulling at every step and breath.
Dead trees are beautiful
wrapping around the reality of the world
a signpost for morality.
Cities crumble, sit forever in pieces.
Tress die, rot and renew.
I would rather this than the artificial lies
of brick and mortar, smog and smoke.

r.l.w

NaPoWriMo – Day 18

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