Under the Skeleton Tree

I once saw a girl on her way to the grave

under the skeleton tree

She passed by ash-grey meadows

and her tears flowed free

 

Too lost in trying to live, she

had forgotten how

She used to dream in colour

and not the greys of now

 

I watched the girl

Visit her grave

And weep, for what she lost;

What might have been

If she had kept her dream

alive, she’ll never know.

 

My heart ached for the girl

mourning a life gone

While I am at the start

of a life not yet done

 

I saw that girl again today.

She was crying

by the skeleton grave.

This time I took a closer look:

 

I saw her hair is short,

and straight and golden brown,

Her nose is long and thin

And the freckles on her face

are to my own akin.

 

My spine starts to shiver,

My heart heavily thumps,

I know now what I’m seeing,

And it’s giving me the slumps

 

the girl I see is who I’ll be

ten years down the line

 

The skeleton tree is quite renowned –

before the body is there to lie

it marks skeleton graves,

where old dreams are sent to die.

 

As I return to my life now

I can’t shake the shudder

That I might lose my life somehow

And become just some other.

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