The Plum Tree

A poem

Abigael Taiwo
Words Misplaced


Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

The plum tree drooped
I watched with cautious eyes
As it fell apart
The disease spread slowly
And the petals did not fall
At first
But they would

As every petal, pink as cheeks
Ceased to be
Something died inside
Bit by bit, day by day
Until all was almost lost

Life around it seemed to go on
Did death not change life
It’s dark brown trunk
Strong, masculine, the figure of man
Lived on

Every time I crossed its path
The plum tree would captivate me
I would cry for my dead plum tree
But what would tears prove?