The Sycamore Tree

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And I have watched a bobbing sycamore tree,
whispering, secrets beneath, the flaxen moon
held my breath as mountains descend in awe,
or maybe it’s a tear that melts away from eye.

I listen to the songs of the weeping shadows,
sighing, soft as though, there’s no tomorrow.
I, mount up, to the deep, and darkening sky,
attempt to gulp the midnight wind —

and watch as woe upon love’s lip dies.

 

Photo credits: Paul Whitener (1911-1959) The Sycamore Tree

Posted on Artistic Interpretations @ Real Toads

&Posted on Open Link Night @ dVerse Poets Pub

54 thoughts on “The Sycamore Tree

  1. Grace says:

    Just wistful and contemplative ~ I specially love this part:

    I listen to the songs of the weeping shadows,
    sighing, soft as though, there’s no tomorrow.

    • Sanaa says:

      Thank you so much, Margaret 🙂 so glad you liked it ❤️

      (and thank you for the lovely prompt)

  2. Xenia says:

    A beautiful write Sanaa, I especially love ‘held my breath as mountains descend in awe, or maybe it’s a tear that melts away from eye’

    • Sara McNulty says:

      Mellow mood in this writing, a bit sad, with images like,
      ‘I, mount up, to the deep, and darkening sky,
      attempt to gulp the midnight wind —

      and watch as woe upon love’s lip dies.

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