The Lonely Tree

The wind gashes, the sun shines, the leaves shake, not with excitement, but with the loneliness of being the only tree stuck in a pot in the middle of the city.

Shadows move, mixed sounds everywhere, but I can’t move, because my roots are stuck, stuck in the one place I was planted, in the middle of the city.

I am stuck, not by choice but because it’s nature’s way. I am the lonely tree stuck in the big city.

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