Unheard Voices of Glee

Breezes painted the tree's leaves,
the tree which listened alone
to the songs of melancholy sung by the birds,
as the stars twinkled in silence.
Rustles of the sly grew quiet
around the beautiful lone tree
mounted by the pale winking moon,
on another long old night.
A light broke through the darkness,
falling on the length of the tall lone tree,
giving it promises of a warm company,
but alas, it was, unsurprisingly, temporary.
The light faded away,
on the path the tree could never walk,
taking away the only warmth it craved,
and the love it begged to receive.
Simply ignored and overlooked, the tree was
by the ones passing by,
the ones perhaps too blind to see
the pain of the lone, lone tree.
It had been a hundred years or so
since the tree had been alive.
And yet, it never quite got to feel
intimacy, care or kindness.
It had given to the world
whatever they demanded,
and had, in the journey of only giving,
gifted his soul to the notorious young winds.
But was it a gift or a sacrifice?
The night moved on, unaffected,
followed by the bright sunny day,
but its rays couldn't reach the tree,
the tree enveloped by lonely grey.

                                                                    -Syd