To A Dogwood

The place where i used to write this stuff.

To A Dogwood

My shelter, my throne,

I sit under your

Sunlit canopy,

And let my words weave

Into brilliant music.

Colors of speech dance

Upon my college rule easel.

Soon, you will be dormant, but I

Shall sit under your

Empty canopy

Regardless.

Winter is the only

Season that I can

Appreciate.

Today, your leaves are

Open, flowers white,

Glittering in the

Light of the Sun.

Come winter,

You will remind me

Of myself.

The End

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