Winter's Tree

Winter's Tree

A rustic ancient eminence stands covered in a veil
Vigilantly listening to the bare and empty wail
As golden threads gently descend 
To reflect upon the peace 
On the raw and untouched beauty
Of a down softer than fleece
It stands tall and imposing 
Yet somehow not at all 
As if a wilted legacy laid to rest after a fall
He stands waiting for a crown to come
A mantle made for shade
When then the sun will shine again
For the will to be remade

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