Season’s Fleeting [Poem]

Oh, tinsel tailor,
with your shop
full of hybrid silver
and paper snow.

Why plant trees
of plastic
with steel roots
that never grow

and top them
with stars
that never
see the sky?

Why?

Is the truth
not as beautiful
as the lie?

At DVerse this week, the prompt is to write a quadrille around the word Tinsel.

Photo by Алсу Вершинина on Unsplash

18 thoughts on “Season’s Fleeting [Poem]

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