Words-Worth Your Time

An Oak once stood— Tall and proud— By the edge of the woods, Its leaves — Reaching up for the stars. Often did it look at its reflection— Charred bark and Branches sweeping wide. It bows it frame, Gazing wistfully— At the pine that stood  By the foot of the hill— How graceful it looked! How warm! "No wonder people brought them  Into their home!"  It would say— How the Oak longed— To be part of the fun and festivities! So it chopped off its branches Felling them —as it bled from the wounds It caused. But, did it stop? No. It reasoned instead— Kept repeating: "It will be worth it"— Over and over again. It ignored itself— It's pain— Ignored its worth— How loved it was— A shelter for all— But one day— One day There was nothing left— All was gone— Nothing remained— What once was— Lay dead. All of it's—once Sweeping—branches  Lay on the earth. The nesting birds and  The foraging squirrels— Rushed away from it. Only now did it understand— Its errors— But now— Now t...

When I have my own house, My voice will permeate the walls, I will find a home within it. My eyes will paint— with colours of light— On the ceiling, My hopes and dreams. My cup on the counter, My clothes on the chair, My hair—tied up in a bun as I cook— My dishes in the sink, My favourite songs on the playlist. Dancing around the kitchen with a slice of cake, And my pillows thrown on the bed— I am unbarred. Crying without judgement, Laughing without thought, Wearing what I wish— I am unbarred. Words spill on my table— Pages upon pages— Of every thought, every wish— And dream— That ever passed my eye. A wooden swing and green curtains, Blue-stained windows and red cushions— Golden light—banishing the shadows— All seen— in my home. On the wood and ply, Where the warmth and cold— Are— As they have always been— These are my hopes, and dreams— A small home— A big life— None to pick me apart, None to cast a shadow— On this little life of mine— None to erase me.