She is but a fragile tree

Roots not yet deep enough to weather a storm

Branches reaching up, hoping for the sun

Wishing for rain

She bows her trunk

Runs the twigs of her fingers through her leafy mane

And bends in the wind

As she longs for a gardener to trim her growth

Or even some young lovers

To sit under her shadow

And sleep at her feet

She no longer fears the fall

When she becomes bald and unlovely

Knowing that in the spring she will start anew

And perhaps next years’ leaves

Will be fiery red instead of dull yellow

And the photographer will capture her

And people will marvel at the beauty

And choose not to cut her down

To use her body for fuel

Or to build a small chair from her hips

Maybe she will live another year

To grow stronger

And someone will love her

And protect her

Even though she can never move from this spot

Here in this suburban yard

Watching the sunset

And wishing she was a cloud

Floating away in gossamer blue

And being free


6 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Mr. Watson
    May 12, 2012 @ 16:17:49

    Great imagery ! Lovely write!


  2. shianwrites
    May 12, 2012 @ 19:48:39

    So written. Beautiful Toasha!


  3. David Eric Cummins
    May 28, 2012 @ 23:00:40

    Very nice!


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