By: PaysConteur~ 

 I saw in these branches,
 loneliness misunderstood.
 A forest of shaded green
 in which sunshine grieves.
 Gently swaying,
 lightly touching,
 as they twist and bend;
 softly whispering,
 seemingly asking
 for more.
 Certain branches,
 uncertain leaves,
 strength in gentle movement;
 a stillness in what the wind brings.
 Striving to relieve their weight in vain
 they reach out to heaven
 weaving passing time
 into shafts of glory;
 where ecstasy grows.
 Not for the want of love,
 but for their sense
 of creative duty;
 giving all their love
 to beauty.