He sat glumly in the depths of the tree
Waiting for the newly green leaves to fall.
When would the roots whither away and die?
When would the trunk be remembered by its many knowledgeful rings?
Even the sky looked on with sorrow.

He saw the lonely lightposts,
Dim amber bulbs,
Lighting the way ahead.
Like the last lights before leaving the city,
They beckoned him forth to the open road.
One last glimmer, one last promise of direction
Before plunging into the lost highway ahead.

He entrenched himself deeper;
Pushed his tortured soul into the roots of the tree.
Maybe at the source of life,
In the nourishing soil of earth,
He would finally find death.

The end of the road is well-lit,
Welcoming him home.
Father with his pocketwatch,
Mother with a flower,
Together they stand, arms stretched out.
But he only sees the dark highway ahead,
Blind to the end until the end blinds him.





Unpublished work © 2002 Gary Peck. This work is licensed under the
Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial License. To view a copy
of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/1.0/.