A POETREE IN THE DESERT

In the endless sands of a desert vast,
A tree without leaves, no branches amassed;
It stands alone, by the winds of time swept,
Its roots in the soil, no deep promise kept.

No shadow it casts, no bird finds its rest,
No flowers it bears, no fruit to be blessed.
In the dry wind it sways, a gentle moan,
Like a memory lost, it trembles alone.

When the sandstorm returns with its might,
Its roots start to loosen, losing their fight.
At last, still and silent, it falls to the ground,
Helplessly fading, without a sound.

The desert alone is the witness untold,
Of the tree's solitude, and its final fold.
Like footprints the ages will swiftly erase,
It becomes a lost memory, without a trace.