an artificial tree

feelings prompted by the passing of a season; reflections prompted by an artificial tree.

to separate life and death
is as difficult as it is

tragic.

plastic pine needles
on a naked tree
from a season
almost passed;

they are artificial
and ugly
but in imitation
they become almost

beautiful.
certainly sad,
alone, and unrelatable
to anything but
eachother.

i hate them
for reminding me
life is passing,
but i love them
for telling me
life is coming,

when the first flower blooms,
i will remember
how you are not real
and you represent
a barren life
of a nondeciduous,
plastic tree

further confusing
while disillusioning
me.