The Dead Bonsai Tree (a poem)
🌱
A dead bonsai tree
Greeted me from its clay pot
In front of the brick house
🏠
It was illuminated by the glow
Radiating through the glass door
Like an inviting sunset
🌇
Warm, orange and safe
The home contrasted with its bonsai
So gray and lifeless
🥀
This bonsai had cobwebs and debris
But its twisted trunk reminded me
Of a happier time
🕸️
It had been twenty years
Since I’d visited those bonsai trees
In that foreign botanical garden
🌿
Now I recalled that rainy afternoon
Surrounded by the vibrancy and diversity
Of bonsai older than my parents
👵
I looked again at the dead bonsai
And heard death whispering to me
A chilling tale about the fleeting joy of life
💀
Then I wept
For I may never see the bonsai again
In their own garden
😭
“Life is what we make it,”
The dead bonsai said to me.
“Don’t forget to admire its beauty.”
🌄
Blinking my wet eyes, I smiled
In admiration of this home
Radiating warm joy into the afternoon
🌞
Thank you for your service
Bonsai
I will remember your words.
🙏
Dedicated to anyone who has ever killed a bonsai tree.
