He shakes her, breaks her.
Still she stands, forgiving.
She sprouts, he pouts.
Her flowers bloom. He says he’s sorry.
Her leaves turn brown.
He blows them down.
He wraps her in a coat of white.
They say goodbye until next year.
Forgive, forget.
published in Prolific Pulse
Oh my goodness...again! ......... the background to my comment..I was almost scared to read this one, as I saw the first two lines, and one of the effects of the last two years in Ukraine is not taken on more violence than absolutelxy necessary.. I just have a strong aversion to it...but I ploughed ahead..then thought..oh no....as I started reading...no no........and...wonderful ending, so clever of you, thank goodness!