Decay

Look at that green tree down yonder-

The imagery of a joyous youth.

Don’t deny that you couldn’t bother

To lay your sight on that drab, brown ruth.

Hiding behind the pretense of green

It is a shade of brown hitherto unseen.

Because even though it might crumple amidst the gay

No one wants to set eyes on the decay.

Look at the hypocrisy of the humble soul

Water the green

But leave the decayed, unseen

And avoid its toll.

It’ll come falling down one day

There will still be nobody for the decay

Because we pick flower and leaf

And avoid to console another’s grief.