Native

Carcas

Your limp body lies in my hands. You quiver in the wind. I try to warm you.

But it is too late.

You are too young to die.

Much of life was ahead of you.

To contribute to the world. To make a difference.

You did not grow tall and beautiful.

Your life was too short.

I hold you tight, as if I could squeeze life back into you.

                  I cannot.

No one cries for you.

               but me

No one care about you.

                 but me 

You are a tree,

but no one cares

             but me