Island Winter Poem by Thomas Plotz

Winter days, grey covered skies
Why do we love this land so?
59 square miles of island, In the Forgotten Borough

How old were you then IM?
Was the tree in back just as grand?
Bending this way and that,
Then stretching tall to the sky; almost as tall as the home itself

The tree in front of your childhood home
Builds with snow, thick and heavy;
Layer upon layer till the tree begins to droop and weep
With the weight, of the soft falling snow

Here in the quiet, Forgotten Borough

Peace is heard

T. Plotz
Island Winter
18 April 2017