Tree
Tree,
whose bony fingers
stretched above gloved branches,
you danced in the sunlight,
elegantly bowing
for scampering squirrels
and gifts of birdhouse rings.
Tree,
whose springtime blossoms
scattered petals
for make-believe weddings,
you caught up children
and hugged them tightly
in games of hide and seek.
Tree,
I run my fingers
along your weeping scars
where Earth’s fury tore
your hand from mine.
Splintered memories,
I have less air to breath.
Copyright © Rachel Kovacs | Year Posted 2013
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