TIMBER

Have spent my life aimed for the sky
with ill will for nil and none.
I mind my business.
Take only what I need,
yet still they come and come.
They took my aunt and uncle;
Mother, father to.
That was years ago now and I hear them coming through.
Now they come for me,
but only since I grew.
They hack upon my ankles
when I have done no wrong.
Yet swing and swing and swing they do,
until they sing the song

Reviews

[Henryglass]

Beautiful poem that's open for different interpretations. Excellent read. Thanks for sharing.

[Chase]

Thank you very much; I appreciate the feedback. I wrote it as a poem and a riddle, though its a fairly obvious riddle. I enjoy the music it has.