A Birch in October

 

The city whispers a soft goodbye,

As daylight fades and shadows grow.
Children dream with lips so light,
While power lines still hum and glow.

The night, unsteady, carves its way,
Tomorrow looms, unseen, yet near.
A cigarette burns, thoughts decay,
One more, to chase away the fear.

The weight of time, a heavy chain,
Each day it tightens, more and more.
Is purpose found in joy or pain?
Or in the dreams we can't ignore?

The smoke still lingers in the air,
Inside the walls, the ache remains.
Yet outside, on the balcony there,
The city's lights dissolve the chains.

A birch tree bends, so frail, so thin,
Between the walls where sun can't shine.
It lifts its leaves through autumn's grin,
And finds a light it calls divine.

A lamp stands still, so cold, so bright,
Its constant glow, a steady flame.
The birch, once lost, now holds the night,
And whispers softly, "Not in vain."