The Oak

As the leaves float down
And Summer comes to a close,
I sit in silent contemplation.
Once a sign of death,
Signalling the coming rebirth,
Now filled with trepidation.

The world, my world,
The things that mean the most,
Crumbling at my feet.
The oaks I leaned on,
For strength and love
Rapidly retreat.

The solid roots
That support
Poisoned by mistake
The jagged wind
Carries toxic waste
Oh how my heart breaks

There is no oncoming spring,
No hope of to speak.
The darkness falls, the mighty oak cries
And the world, my world, is left bleak.