You carved our initials
into the tree we kissed under.
It was our first kiss
and you told me you loved met.
I responded in the chirp of the birds
the howl of the wind
the rustle of the leaves.
We drove home in different cars
down different roads
and you found a new home.
I drove back to the tree
my fingers feel your name
and I call out.
I hear your response in the chirp of the birds
the howl of the wind
the rustle of the leaves.

The ancient oak
wears a cloak
of hoary old bark
and scalloped leaves.

She raises high her limbs,
writes silent hymns
that the nested larks
turn to music with ease.

A thousand years
on this blue sphere
has this oak thrived
under countless moons

aloof from the cares
we people may share:
She’s simply alive
to write her secret tunes.

Always glistened under the rays of the sun,
The warmth on the leaves always reflected to your surroundings,
Head in the clouds,
So try and explain
How have you managed to make it so far down here?
Once the greenest leaves,
Now all turned to a dark brown
When did you stop caring?
When did you become this sickening thing?
When did you lose your way?
This is all your own doing,
You dark, oak tree.

Through my two eyes of pain
I saw a half hidden tree cut
A tree born before plenty years
fell to ground within few minutes
her caring pretty hands,
her long, thin fingers
and all the birds houses
together killed without mercy

I heard her scream
I heard her cry
I heard her plead
but only I heard her
not a single soul did
but those tiny, tweeting birds
understood her parting words
and flew away with painful tears

Very few feel sad for them
They, who cut their saviours
never worry about them
but when these warriors
show their mightiest powers
and take revenge on them
A large worry and cry
for these shameless cowards

Do I see the tree

or do I just remember --


the image of it?

I long to be silent in silence,
so that a magnolia tree may bloom in my mind,
warmed by the hands of God.

Derail your anxious train of thought

Open your inner spirit

And enter the dream corridor
like a leaf from a tree in its dying season

Coma come quiet
Airless linger delight

Sacrificial pasts
give you the power
to leave places

The world won't get better
but you will