the tree of life

your golden green leaves decorate the feral branches, reaching over bypassers
reaching into their hearts
wild strands of bark, fluttering in the italian wind, mesmerising and free
the simple flower looks up to you
bearing joyful fruits, depositing them indiscriminately to those you meet
they all smile as they wander through

grim, defiant strokes of the industrial heyday
broken temporarily by a dirty white midriff
he knows he can never look as good as you
and he lets everyone walk all over him
paved by footprints and engraved with the fallen
gritty reminders of non-existent maintenance

the boulevard is a heaven for the tall and the small
fields of gold for those who dream of something better
you'll always know that opposites attract.

Um well...you always do a good job with imagery and you use your words in a way that I haven't seen anyone else do. However, I just can't seem to feel anything. I feel like I'm looking into glass box with a rose in it. I'm looking at it...admiring it because it's so beautiful but I just can't touch it...I can't feel it.

grim, defiant strokes of the industrial heyday
I know this might sound stupid but what is a heyday? I do love this line though I don't even know what a heyday is and I'm too lazy to look it up in Webster's.

This felt detached and rather melencholy. It also felt overly metaphorical, but I think that's just me. Also, I could feel this, but I didn't live it.

bearing joyful fruits, depositing them indiscriminately to those you meet
This line stands out for me.. can't say why, really. I too was wondering about "heyday", but it seems to me I do know it, I just can't remember at the moment. Hmm.. second stanza, third through sixth lines didn't quite feel right to me.

Heyday n.

The period of greatest popularity, success, or power; prime.

It is rather emotionally detached. I'll work on it.