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The Tree
January 16, 2015
The autumn winds,
Kissing her cheek,
While sweeping,
The hair out of her face.
Leaves change color,
From luscious green to a sunset orange,
They crumble,
Falling to the ground.
Red rises to her cheeks,
As the leaves,
Dance around her feet,
Circling around and around.
Branches extend down,
Enclosing her in the warmth,
Keeping her safe,
From the dangers outside.
She hugs his trunk,
Feeling the rough bark on her cheek,
Tears kiss her face,
For she knows he is not a person,
But a mere tree.
© Steve S., Marblehead, MA
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