Soft faced John, a young boy surrounded by the summer’s day
Watching as the tall and sturdy trees provide cover for him to sit
As the wind blows
Leaves are flown away
Zooming past his face
And completely out of site
But soft faced john was alright.
His trees stood stronger than anything
Wind blows and time passes
He watches those once sturdy strong trees
Wither and thin.
Their bark becoming damp
Their leaves wilting
Their once hard insides now dead and rotting
Soft faced John was no longer a boy,
But now a man
An old man.
Soft face John cried
And cried some more
For he had nothing left.

-Jaxon Hewitt-Zmich