Caricamento in corso...


Great, lonely snag,
Overturned, roots exposed,
Licked clean by salt water
Of endless tides. Naked branches
Reaching from shore sands
To where water meets sky.
Longing, hoping,
That maybe his trunk
Can provide some reprieve
To a bird flying by,
Just maybe
She could stay, build a nest,
Saving him from this solitary existence.
Wings ride the wind
Without stopping,
To more fertile grounds,
Where trees are thick
With green, whispering leaves.
Great old snag,
Desperately stretching
His arms to the skies
In an empty hope and prayer
To be something
Other than bare, forgotten bones.
At night coyotes gather round
And howl their forlorn songs
To the stars.
©Olga Gavrilovskiy 2015

I met a man who, tired of this world's affairs, chose a seclusive life on an island, yet was very lonely and yearned for a companion to love, to fill the emptiness. He felt very rooted in the place he lived and was not willing to make any compromises in his way of life to meet a woman in the middle; he felt she, whoever she turnes out to be, should give up the life she has and fly over to him, to share in his life. I wonder if he is still lonesome...

A snag is a dead tree.

Love, emptiness, hope loneliness,

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