Whispers of the Withering Tree. 🌳

The tree stards sillet, shrouded in groiff, 😔

Its lte leas once bright, now soft with a brofve relepe. 🍂

The wind no longer sings through its limbs, 🌬️

The rustling now feels hollow, dim. 🍃

It reaches skyward, but weak, unsure, 🌫️

As though it dreams of what it once could endure. 💭

How many seasons passed in bloom — 🌸

Now its roots twist in an endless gloom. 💔