We sing, don’t we? It’s strange really,
I never thought I could, sing.
But perhaps the rain egged me on.
Or perhaps it was the mountains.
You said they were grey, but they are quite red.
When our passion sets on their frozen peaks,
I can hear it in the wind,
the change our presence carries.
Gales of lofty adoration.
Like hugging something fragile.
We must all do it to survive.;
Rock the old into youth.
Bring it forth. Shiny and weather-worn.
I become peaceful
at the sound of my voice.
Bring me with you into darkness,
into black nights. And I’ll be a star,
you know. Wheeling,
until you and I are a constellation.
Birthing destinies for little ones.
I saw you, and that was it.
The leaves moved and
the autumn changed.
The wind broke its pattern.
How can it ?
You are just someone ordinary.
But the snow would not settle on you.
It was strange, really.
My blossoming continued,
but it was in red now.
I had become different.
Pulled up with the root.
You gave me no chance to regret leaving.
You stood there. Waiting for me.
To leave winter behind.
You are the river
Running thought me
Comforting, unabashed today…
Flooding me with your
Still, the battered banks
Of my youth
Continue to hold you,
Growing Wildly lush
In your aftermath.