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WanderingMonster

The Tree and I

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The tree and I grew up together, 

Watching Fall turn us red and brown

And Summer cover us in a green and hidden hideaway,

Sitting in silence as the world brought passers by

To talk and pretend and fade away again. 

It was a small tree and I was a small girl.

I sat on arms-stretched-wide branches

And we understood, through the faint, 

Leaf-caught rain or dappled sun and shade 

That the tree and I would always be there.

The maple and I, we were constant, an island in a storm,

And people we loved sailed across the world

And stayed a while. 

Then they drifted away on swift currents

And we never saw them again. 

Me, the tree, we grew weary of new faces

Becoming old faces, becoming gone.

After a long time, we started to grow, 

Twisting into each other until nothing remained

But bark and leaf and silence.

We dug our roots deeper into the earth

And fell asleep beneath the sky,

Branches close and tight and one.

Time passed. The seas stilled

And no more soft hands reached up 

To pull smiling faces into our arms,

But we didn't mind. 

The tree and I had each other. 

And in the end, that's all that ever really mattered. 

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