Weeping hallow

The trees on my street have started to weep

They are sad for the souls who died from deceit

They are tired of the lies

and weeds

that grow with them to no wits end

The trees all cry with them

The clouds in the sky

all say their goodbyes

and move to a better life

But the trees, the trees are stuck there envious of that life

The trees see it all from life to death

from start to finish

but never get their way

They grow and grow

and become a home

until the end of their days

But they become strong,

string enough to bear it all with every swaying branch

But through it all they never falter in their wind drawn trance

And without a doubt the trees on my street have started to weep

Because they long to see the end of the week