Collecting Firewood

Collecting Firewood

A Poem by BobM

I lay my hands
across this tree;
I feel it now-
and it feels me.

Its bark is rough,
and sharp in spots;
it cuts me deep-
but not enough...

to pay for what
I have to do;
to break this tree-
and burn it too.

© 2015 BobM


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I'm not a good reviewer of poems...but what i understand from your poem the tree is a living thing.

Posted 6 Years Ago



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Added on November 11, 2015
Last Updated on November 11, 2015

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BobM
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