It’s summer, yet my leaves don’t grow.
There is no leafy green on show.
There are no buds
That promise life,
Growing to the light.
I’m sitting dormant, sad and weak,
I look dark and dull and bleak.
At first you stop
To see what’s wrong,
But that care ends
Before too long.
I sit, forgotten, in plain sight,
Amongst the trees whose boughs are bright
With blossoms, leaves
And birds who sing,
Whilst I stand bare,
A broken thing.
I wither, shying from the light,
I look more dull when days are bright.
The hot sun shines,
That I should grow,
Like other trees.