Cold As Stone
I gaze up the tree's columned trunk, extending far above life.
Its stone leaves are rigid in the the sky's whispering breaths,
And the sun's warmth sits, unwelcome,
On its hardened facade.
Small vessels of life flit about its base,
Basking in the unused light.
The stubborn buzz of existence surrounds it,
A mask to its all-muting silence
I rest my hand on its trunk,
And feel the coolness of the stone
On the tips of my senses,
Waiting to greet me.
I will the stone to soften,
Life to crack the tomb,
But it remains,
And I curse my old friend change
For leaving it here,
The only constant on the ever changing surface
- Leanne Louie