There is nothing

There is nothing

But the tree

Proud it stands

Growing taller

Different every day

Its branches catch the wind

The leaves, miniature sails

Glisten in silent concert

A glorious symphony

Straining to reposition

Turning as the sun

Moves through the heavens

Fluttering in the breeze

They communicate

A beautiful despair

In the foreground

All is desolate

A faded despond

Colourless

A featureless world

Painted in sadness

Reflecting the emptiness

In the hollow

At the bottom of a well

Unfound

At the ending of the world

Only the tree

Bears fruit

Ripe enough to eat

Out of reach

Existing in temptation

It calls

A siren

Echoing through wide canyons

Of melancholy

Only the tree

Standing by you

So far away

And yet

Just beyond my finger tips

If I reach out

Lean a little bit further

Perhaps I will tear

The canvas

The image will overturn

And it will

Crash right in on me.