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My Poet Tree

What was a joy,
'twas once a toy,
a clever tool used for amusement;

was but a lark,
but then the bark,
began falling on the pavement.

Vulnerable outside,
gave a glimpse inside,
what was a bag of tricks;

other methods used,
unbalanced, and confused;
now I've much more wax than wicks.

At times amazed,
sometimes unfazed,
tree's branches bend, and relax;

the roots are deep,
but the grades more steep,
the leaves on the ground hide the tracks.

Gravity betrays,
cognitive thought decays,
branches baring from the breeze;

exposing birds,
who'll take off like words,
both, migrating towards more degrees.

That's not to say,
I owned not my "day",
many seasons yielded, plump;

my thoughts are tethered,
forever weathered,
my name carved faintly on the stump.

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of the rhythm or pattern or pacing?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Editing stage: 



The rhythm and pace are great, I can't find fault

Nicely done

Love Jc xxx

“The world is full of magic things, patiently waiting for our senses to grow sharper.” — W.B. Yeats

..for reading, commenting, but mostly for finding no fault.
Thanx, for that;

Neopoet is "newtriffic" !
...from the heart, or a reasonable faxcimile;
david a. goodwin #{:>{)} @==

author comment

But I would have said
migrate towards more degrees"

...not only like, but LOVE my frenchfRIES! All seriousness, aside....did I perchance, repair my hic-cup...I hope?!
What s, you?

Neopoet is "newtriffic" !
...from the heart, or a reasonable faxcimile;
david a. goodwin #{:>{)} @==

author comment

would improve withouth the "both" in that line. it was such a nice write

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