Gold dust

1-tree_st_pancras2_pe

A small, still green umbrella of a tree
stood its ground in the graveyard , just as a soldier might
against the bloody rust and decay of the last battle.
And there you sat – such a life-like resurrection
I left my body to come and see
a stranger rose and went by instead, kicking up up leaves
and each mid-October your going nudges the ribs
breaking in again to the heart centre
– that nugget you left for us to invest
we still waste

Related poem:
Sparks

These 10 lines dedicated to the memory of a devoted friend and teacher – and written for  A Splash of Rust and Gold – Micro Poetry

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