How its branches lay out,

The thick aged trunk steeping into the soil-

Flexing its way through the earth,

Reaching endlessly.

How the wind tickles the leaves

And whispers to me softly-

Caressing my collarbone

As it pricks the hair up on my skin.

The branches open their arms up to me,

Begging me to join them,

Asking me to come and play-

So that I may ease this burning sadness

And with its leaves wipe away these unhinged tears.

But I sit and continue to stare.

“What a foolish thing to climb a tree!”

I think as I remain sitting in my suffering.

Never knowing more than “what if,”

And I proceed to elude and blind the pain.

By: Rebekah Turney