Passage

A look back in time,
I was a tall, slender figure
Leaning against
a thicker planted post.
my limbs stretched over
A crossed skeleton
supported by the post:
a gardener’s vision.

In the Spring,
when I was lush and green,
I provided shade,
shelter,
to those sitting
underneath
the wooden bones:
the weary,
the passionate,
the miserable,
the victorious.

Time Passes

Now I am thicker, taller.
My trunk has grown
around the post,
intertwining
old bones with new growth.
My limbs are heavy.
They spread over
And through
the broken, skeletal mess.

A young gardener
meticulously removes
the thin bones
from my branches.
I am enough shelter,
a more pleasing site,
for next flock
solace seekers.

All that remains
of the time before
is a wooden post
held firmly
in my breast.

© 2017 C.J. Staryk. All Rights Reserved.

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