Disappointments

My living tree shrivels in its own hope,
Strangled by the absence of promised sunlight.
Waited too long for a friendly bird's visit.
These little deaths that happen every day,
What does it matter.

Why make the heart jump, when you know it will stop?
A break in its constant rhythm is not welcomed
Its peaks and troughs are
Unpredictable, I will suffer
A cardiac arrest.

A tree with a pumping heart is not so hardy,
It dies sooner than you think.
Just takes, the absence
Of promised sunlight, and the no-show
Of a friend.

But the friend did come. A cheery bird, hopping,
Looking for the tree with a heart.
Puzzling, though, where did she go?
The little bird thought,
While perched on the dry dead tree.

W.J.H