Mirage

Who was it coming to collect their toll
Why did it send shivers in the soul
As winds of warning blew
The guardian numbers dropped to few
In haste all things were to defend
Before the new comers could upend
It was in rage the tree fell
Hopes and dreams to dispel
All done at beck of fear
The powerless shed no tear
Fruit and flowers discarded
With each toss beauty departed
Fruit was to feed the brave
Yet even this did not save
Glorious branches cut at lightning strike
Forged into warriors’ pike
Sitting in wait for an enemy unseen
Not thinking of the piece that could have been
On the grounds of paradise lost
Never knowing true cost

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