Hobbo's Poems
A quirky look at life from a Yorkshire poet and his dog's perspective
Tree of life
Tree of life We are leaves on the tree of life, we bud, grow, mature then fade, dry fall and perish, nourishing and making way for our successors, as the tree continues to grow towards its destiny.
Hobbo's Poems 
Love this Hobbo ❤️
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! 💖
LikeLiked by 1 person
Beautiful. 😊💙
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you! 💖
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome. 😊
LikeLiked by 1 person
Seasonal lives, makes me want to make the most of each moment.
LikeLiked by 1 person
👍I get the impression that you are doing exactly that.🙂
LikeLike
It’s a lovely poem and a lovely sentiment. But I fear that the nourishing of the ground for our successors has gone awry. Sorry to be cynical. It’s still a beautiful poem. Just a spoil sport reader.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. I do think we are more aware now, it’s whether we can turn those words into actions quickly enough. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
A lovely thought, that I’m a leaf. I do worry about infestation though. 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
Those caterpillars could wreak havoc on your capilliaries! 😂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh no! Not the caterpillars! 🐛
LikeLiked by 1 person
Great poem Hobbo. Yeah we all fall off the tree one day.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks Vinny! We all get there eventually!
LikeLike