Derelict

The tree's been lopped,
which hasn't stopped
old branches, broken
through the roof, a token
of the past.

At length they've died
but still provide
a natural roof extension,
a dimension
that won't last.

Who owns the shack?
We've all lost track,
the brewery or the pub
where booze and grub
long stopped.

It's lost its old identity
and, like the shed through entropy,
will be a distant memory,
as will the stumpy tree,
too late, they lopped.

© Celia Warren 2020

Another beautiful sunny day, even if it's not as warm as summer: loving it! Thanks to Marlieske for hosting the derelict challenge.