It held on.

It held on.

I want to say for dear life

But it seems crass

To refer to the dying

With such familiarity

When we were never close,

Separated as we were

By root and branch.

I don’t know

How much store

To put on its intention

Whether it was glad to fall

Or if the thought of a slow

Freefall to earth

Filled it with dread.

But it did hold on

Swayed crazily for a while,

Perhaps it was the thought

Of the ashes to ashes

Dust to dust part of it all.

It wouldn’t take long

Perhaps crushed underfoot

A wayward boot

Would see the end of it.

I pondered this

For the moment

It took

To flutter down.

It was a lonely end

Separated from the rest

Never to be part of a tree again

Unless you want to

Evoke the notion

Of circularity

And regeneration

As justification.

The consolation

We are all part of

A never-ending cycle,

It is my choice

I suppose.

I can use whatever

Device I choose

To juxtapose

Into this sorry tale

But no matter

I thought you might

Like to know

But no problem

If you don’t

It’s all toss anyway.