The oak

Kneeling down by the old oak
The black sky overhead masking his quivering lips
And somber appearance
silhouetted against the drive

He gently released the flowers from his grip
And shed a soft tear
That trickled down upon the earth
And spread throughout

The site in front,
Memories of what used to be,
And what could have been
Sent him back

His face now about to break he shouted
"Why" to the heavens above
He pounded the dirt and cursed the sky
And threw the flowers and kicked the oak



But there was nothing he could do
The curve was too sharp and the car too old
And we were all just kids
With nothing to lose
until
we
lost
it
all