One
Small open backyard
With a lonely tree as
Lonely as a widow
Stands high in the sky.
Branches hang low, slowly dying.

Shining through small spots,
The Sun-reflecting green
Upon and old tree.
Wind rustling leaves
And frail branches.
Only hearing soft whistles,
Of the light wind.

Being blinded; the pure Sun
Peeks from behind
Small spots by an old tree.

Senses of relief fills the hard head,
Hard like a brick.
Peace in order with
Final days of life.

Freshly mowed grass scent
Fills the nose with pleasure
And the soft breeze
Embraces the body.

Spring weather
Flowers blooming like
New life is coming
To save us all.

A gold round body-the
Sun looks over us
Protecting the secret for
Everyone.

Sounds of little feet-
Tapping the hard concrete.
A little relaxed boy-So happy
Like a sunset going down.

Water spouting up-
Trickling on bare skin
Cold as ones’ body.

Houses all lined up together,
A near family-They stand
As the invisible
Ones.