Remembering the adage well,
with none to hear, the tree that fell
had never made a sound.
I contemplate, with saddened eyes,
if hope was lost, would its demise
be missed by none around?
I used to dream of brighter days-
that always gave me wondrous ways
around what life would deal.
When one by one those issues took
the options from my future's book,
my fate seemed all too real.
With no attention paid to me
my hope had fallen, like that tree,
in muted reticence.
The wall I built to keep the pain
from ever hurting me again
is now my lone defense.
Jack has published over 350 poems in his career, many with his own photography. He specializes in a view of the commonplace and Americana.