old poetry day, part 1
ah, the day was passed as well any day should be: in the comforting arms of a lonely tree
The wind blows through her branches, and she sways for me like a beauty out of time, telling me there's one place and one alone which can ever be called mine. And I feel it to be true, as I welcome her warming embrace with the full enthusiasm of a lover in spring. We sway together in the wind, my tree and I as the people they pass unawares. Yet, no one knows this lonely pain of being in love with a tree. It is a private pain, one I feel again and again as I stretch out to lay on a branch; hearing the scant whispered promises of healing my heart's desire. Do you know my lover's name? Neither do I, for she keeps it from me like a monkey with my keys yet I love her for it all the same as we idle away our time and pleasure in the sun of the warm summer's day. Oh, hear her voice as she sings to me! The rustle of leaves, the chirping of birds; the silent prayers to gods long dead, they speak to me like none other: Filling the empty places in my head as I sit within the embrace of my lover.