Maggie again

Maggie has no leaves left, the last one held on for a while, but it’s gone now. She is nothing but twigs. Maggie really is symbolic.

I know how Maggie feels today, to be stripped down to nothing. To finally let go of that last leaf that was hanging on. To feel cold, to feel like she needs to stand tall and be brave. Poor Maggie, poor little Maggie, sitting in the corner looking pitiful. 

I wonder, if she was more than a tree, would she feel resentful too? I wonder if she would look down at the floor, at the mess of leaves slowly rotting away, the fragments of a life that used to be? A reminder of what was. I wonder if she would shed painful tears too? I wonder if she would try and hold the anger in? I wonder if she would look at the tall holly tree in the corner and feel jealous? And then feel ashamed and guilty over that jealousy? I bet she would. I don’t think she would be able to help it. I wonder if she would feel sad too today? I wonder if she would feel helpless? I wonder if she would even see those buds of hers? Would she see them? Or would she just know that it is only a question of time before life becomes great again? I wonder if she would feel that waiting through autumn and winter is a painful wait? A waiting that seems never ending? A cruel long wait. I wonder if she would realise that there are storms yet to face? I wonder if she would ask ‘why?’. I wonder how she would manage to justify it all?


I wish Maggie was real. She would be my friend and she could show me how to be strong and how to bloom again. If nothing else, she could help me find some justification.

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