"A Perfect Tree"

There was a tree
In a turbulent season.
A tree that was wild and young,
Until it found umbrellas,
The umbrellas of perfectionism.

 
The evolution of horrific umbrellas
Is the fear inside its stem.
It doesn’t mind if there are
Any mushrooms,
Mosses, or any dirt on its shoulder.

A tree walks,
A tree gets old,
A tree loses,
A tree suffers,
It is no longer hale and hearty.

 
The high hills
Praying with plights,
Perfectionists killed a tree alive.

An alibi for the vague despairs*
A tree absorbs the darkness,
A tree could be used to make a craft,
Or a cozy dwelling,
But, its favourite thing is
To sway in the rain,
Observe the passing of time and umbrellas.

 
#KLT

11, Jan 2024 [Thursday]
*Albert Camus