Significance

A voice drifts on the wind...

Yesteryear it was pleasant,
the sound of casual conversation.

Now, the words drip red,
"Men's voices are daggers," Or so Shakespeare said.

It's funny how a world sanguine
Can, sanguinary, strip serene

And you find yourself,
Spiraling.

Cedar Tree,
Thankfully
Your cover cool in Summer's day,

Now you've gone and blown away.
In your shade, hides the man
That killed sensibility.

And put it in a lock box and tossed
the key.