Everything you can imagine is real.Pablo Picasso
by the lone bench, i sat and stared above
at the dancing branches of talking trees
in the grove, praising the song of the birds
that with life, seem to be deeply in love.
like a dancer, swaying with graceful ease
the trees moved gracefully in the breeze
so that they looked like a well polished team
of choreographed dancers high in esteem.
long i sat at that bench, long did they dance
thrilling in the trill of the singing birds
that made them sway from side to side, curves
that for so long stood in a silent stance.
they must be real fit, in my mind i thought
as i looked at the dancing trees that brought
an envious smile to the mouth on my face
as i myself, could never dance with such grace.
© 2019 The Poets Peace
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