A Poem

Yet at your farthest reaches, / a glimmer – / A bud opens.
A Poem

At your root, an anchor to the earth,
Life’s force seeping into you
Becomes part of you,
These tendrils, bound to something
sure, solid, certain
You are but dead wood.
But at your core are there veins,
A sickly sap betraying you.

Your arms reach out,
Search for something more –
Sunlight, warmth,
That look in my eyes.
Further from your heart that power dwindles
That life fades
Those words forgotten.
Yet at your farthest reaches,
a glimmer –
A bud opens.

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