How its branches lay out,
The thick aged trunk steeping into the soil-
Flexing its way through the earth,
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