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Dark Trees
Coming home in pure dark,
The trees bounding over,
Their prickly ends and pointed arms,
It seems as if they’re going to become alive,
Roam the streets,
Searching for friends, family,
In the warmth that is still carried,
And maybe eventually the sheer cold,
The trees lean over,
Staring at every step taken,
You would start to wonder,
Will they pounce to attack?
Their long prickly arms, reaching,
For attack...
Maybe, they'll have traps prepared,
Never moving, only planning,
In the darkness that surrounds them,
Talking, forever,
Gleaming, breathing,
Moving the leaves they may have left,
Or the branches, swaying,
Maybe this is what they do in the dark,
Plan, retreat if in problems,
The dark trees will carry on though,
Through the dark times in history,
They strive, maybe one day to attack,
With the prickly arms and branches,
With the Darkness from the Trees,
Really coming out,
Causing oblivion and trouble,
Those Dark Trees... mischief...
poem
by
Viraj Bhanshaly
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