The trees in the forest are black as ash,
laying down in defeat along the lonely highway.
They have surrendered,
allowing themselves to be overtaken.
Once, long ago, they were strong.
They stood tall along the Nebraska horizon,
full of grandeur and beauty.
But time never stops ticking.
Things change.
Everything ages,
and the trees could stand no more.
I look at the destitute skyline and notice,
with trees folded over in defeat,
the sunset is free of it's cage.
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