Your poem, as always, is very beautiful. It's atmosphere conveys such sadness; 
its like the tress are mourning the loss too.The context has made the poem 
tear-jerking.

Thankyou for sharing it...

Farah
--- In [email protected], jane bhandari <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> wrote:
>
> What images of diminishment.
> 
> I have a winter poem here for you. Similar feeling of sadness and time 
> running out, written while I was waiting for my father to die.
> 
> 
> 
> THE TREES
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Here, the trees crowd closer.
> 
> Even in the dark one feels their presence.
> 
> In the stillest night they stir, and rustle
> 
> With the shuffling sound of retreating feet,
> 
> Mourners murmuring as they depart.
> 
> 
> 
> After the first gales, leaves lie across the grass 
> 
> Like corpses, whispering death in ghostly voices,
> 
> And the wind keens through the empty branches,
> 
> Sharpening their edges against the bitter sky,
> 
> Cutting it into a grey shroud for dead summer.
> 
> 
> Jane Bhandari
> 
> Farah [EMAIL PROTECTED] wrote:
> 
> Time slipped out of my hands
> 
> 
> 
> Time slipped out of my hand 
> 
> Like sand.
> 
> Sifting out through an open fist
> 
> And the little left upon my palm
> 
> Was also soon gone
> 
> As if blown away by wind.
> 
> 
> 
> I watched with disbelieving eyes,
> 
> This strange, bewildering performance
> 
> As it passed the frenzied vigor of avalanche
> 
> Then slowly pulsed down to a mere trickling line…
> 
> 
> 
> Farah Shams (1999)
> 
> 
> 
> Age
> 
> Time passes,
> 
> For some slowly.
> 
> For others_ running.
> 
> 
> 
> But in the end
> 
> All are same.
> 
> The bodies once young
> 
> As strong young trees
> 
> With tough branches,
> 
> Sturdy roots
> 
> Are reduced to mere skeletons
> 
> With bare thin limbs
> 
> And only a trickle of life
> 
> Flowing in the trunk…
> 
> 
> 
> And then_ they're lonely.
> 
> With memories like gusts of wind
> 
> Blowing, echoing, rumbling
> 
> Through their bodies.
> 
> Forcing the stiff branches to creak
> 
> The hollow, empty body to groan…
> 
> Till the nearly dead roots
> 
> Can no longer stand this onslaught
> 
> And then, they too uproot.
> 
> 
> 
> Farah Shams (1999)
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> Tree Tops
> 
> I watched the rising trees soar up, so up
> 
> Till I had to lie on ground
> 
> So I wouldn't fall when I looked up
> 
> And how I wished that I could too
> 
> Soar up, so up…
> 
> Until those down below
> 
> Will have to lie down too.
> 
> But I was no tree, no plant with roots,
> 
> A plain mortal I was_ but yes_ I could!
> 
> I had two arms and legs that walked
> 
> So I climbed to the top…
> 
> When atop the highest tree I stood
> 
> And looked below to my beginnings
> 
> I realized with sudden clarity
> 
> The wisdom of me being not a tree_
> 
> Then some one too with arms and legs
> 
> Would one day climb, and stand on me!
> 
> 
> 
> Farah Shams (2000)
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
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