A Teacup Full of Stories

Hi there! Please enjoy this poem I wrote this afternoon. I’m not sure what inspired it, seeing as it’s summer right now, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

The black trees,

Scraping the sky with their clawed branches,

Creaking with age in a sullen wind that

Slices down from the North West,

Watch over the stretch of road beside the gate.

Their skeletal fingers, tipped with icy frost,

Beguile the night into passing more slowly; the shadows

Drift down between their branches

Like snow.

 

Twin headlights scorch the dead dried leaves;

An owl screeches into the night, silent ghost

On the wind, stretching out its wings

Into its deathly flight.

A rumble; a roar;

The car skids past, illuminating all;

The trees, the branches, the gate;

And was gone.

 

The black trees spread their branches to the night;

And watch;

And wait.