In the Trees

[munkinhead]

How are days lived fierce flaming poetry
and death sounds too crowded rhyming verse
if we are given, between youth and age,
time to mine love's sonnet out of life's small hopes,
written to you, fair traveler, in brilliant orange
by trees groomed by an artful skill?

But the poet's muse knows a sawdust will
and hews words to sharpen, hide or fit
the chasm stretching beneath yawning sleep,
revealing that the only journey that we take
leaves beauty scattered, bleeding, crying out
that life's last lines rhymed least.

[tailor STATELY]

Incredible poem.

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

[YesNo]

I liked the alliteration in the last lines and the sound of the occasional rhyme throughout.