The Old One

I stood with my long arms splayed above

To welcome the fiery warmth of the sun

My toes dug deep into the dark, moist earth

My fingers stretched to meet a waiting sky

I felt my torso harden and become gnarled

While green leaves sprouted at my crown

I became rooted in place…

An oaken memory of a life past it’s time.

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Mental Plateau

I’ve found

That attempts to

Reinvent myself have

Only led to carbon copies…

– Repeat.

Figments…

In the darkness beyond the tree line

I see the shadows of the potential children

I never had.

The whisper of the leaves in the wind

Are their hushed voices that never spoke…

The long gnarled trunks that stretch

Are their bodies that never uncurled…

The blowing of spores in the wind

– The promise of a future unrealized.

Shallow grave

Every night I would lie awake staring at the empty sunken earth at my side. Cold and grey it taunted my tears. During the day I would bury seeds of all kinds, shovel on moist warm dirt and furiously water the mound… then I would settle myself and wait. Time would crawl slowly by but my efforts were to no avail. With the setting sun, the earth would exhale and sink, turning a sickly shade of pale – unwilling to yield even a shadow of you. While I was left alone, every night, to wither in deafening silence.