“You’re finished
Your job is done
You’re old
Wrinkled
And discolored
You perform no longer
As efficiently
As in your green youth
The world will sweep you
Hide you away
Cursing the final chore
And then forget you”
“Oh, I may be old
But my work’s not done
I was raised to the sky
By my forebears
And though I now fall
I will be the nutrients
To let my children rise
My form will join
The rich soil
And through the tree
In that soil
I will once again
Reach the sky”
(Originally posted October 7, 2014)
Trent's World (the Blog) 
Pingback: If We Were Having Coffee – 10/17/15 | Trent's World (the Blog)
:)
LikeLiked by 1 person
The first part is very sad but blossoms later in to something wonderful x
LikeLiked by 1 person
Something I thought of as I put old dead leaves in a compost pile – without the dead leaves on the ground there would be no living leaves in the trees, it’s all part of the cycle.
LikeLiked by 1 person
very true and very thoughtful x
LikeLiked by 1 person
wonderful!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Cindy!
LikeLike