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The Trees Know All Our Secrets

"The picture of the trees at dusk."
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I had hidden in the trees all day,
until the dusky mist of twilight
overcame me. Nothing you could say
or do could ease the pain, or light
my pathway from that strange madness.

The trees seemed tortured as my soul,
Twisted as my mind with sadness.
The setting sun, behind the knoll
gave promise of the coming blackness
of that eternal, dreamless night.

The twisted trees took great delight
in hearing the flutter of my heart.
They revelled in their rooted might,
and, holding their mossy limbs apart,
they cosseted my wounded soul.

The ghosts of summer come to stroll
the grounds beneath me, laughing
The shades of midnight take their toll,
with every twilight moment passing.
And, silently, the old trees listen.


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