Often when I am sad I will find a maple tree.

One afternoon, when you broke my heart for the first time,
I found a maple tree which I could look at forever.
The Comfort Maple, home sweet home.

For the next ten years I found myself running to this maple.

One morning, when I had awoke at dawn, I sat under the tree.
I found an apricot - colored leaf sitting about two feet away.
I held it towards my heart, home sweet home.

When I woke up that Saturday morning, something was odd.
I saw you at the foot of my bed, in tears.
You were leaving me, oh, oh no.

I decided never to visit home again, because home reminded me of you.
I walked by everyday, shame in my heart.
Wherever you were, I wished I could go.

Thirty years later, I learned to write.

I learned to write thanks to the Comfort Maple.
I began to visit daily, writing my heart onto a leaf of paper.
Wherever you were, my heart left to find you.

When I heard the news you had passed, my old hands began to shake.
I was living without you, but now I actually had to.
I started to believe that you live on; you are a poem that breathes.

My sweet angel I fear with the stones I shall remain,
I am doomed to repeat this unhappy existence,
Where my memory lives on when the vines and the leaves are gone,
And I become inhuman, merely an energy

My love the warmth of your skin and the melody of your song,
Will haunt my being while I haunt the living,
These brick walls, this concrete jungle, this manufactured light
From where I come I shall return

And I may never ascend in this lifetime
I may never leave the next one

My summer seraph who guards the one who wears the crown,
Who smiles at the trumpet Gabriel plays as she makes her way back home,
And gates open, pearly and golden, and to those trapped in this cycle unknown,
I shall be caught in a never ending story when my ability to speak has gone

My sweet angel, soft voices, feather hair, and love,
I only want to hear what is better left unsaid,
How can I know that when I die, my body, my blood
I will not become a ghost, still with desire to touch you?

And my memories live on imprinted in stones, and cobble walkways, and iron-wrought fences
When I wish nothing more than to be forgotten, and to forget
I may never ascend in this lifetime
I may never leave the next one

trees will fall
and skies will turn to dark eyes.
i'll fall for you
and my heart turns
to black nights

Countless imaginations intrigued,
by words pouring truth and honesty.
The beauty in a picture painted...
Only tired yet wilful eyes will get to see...

Scars of a battle surfacing.
Like dreams clouded by storms.
Willingness to face another fight.
Only deafened yet persistent ears will listen for a new melody.

Strings of gambles played...
Blind faith committed into hapless
deals of cards.
Looking for the win amongst a sea of losses.
Only weary yet perservering hands will find the missing shards.

Obstacles portrayed,
as struggles form and hope seems to crumble.
An almost misplaced determination,
tattooed in these hands.
Only apprehensive yet courageous legs will continue to trudge forward.

The heaviest blows...
Inflicted on the frailest bodies.
Taking the brunt of such callous words.
Only the battered yet ernest mind will prevail sheer follies.

Deep laboured breaths...
Wheezing through seemingly punctured lungs.
Seeking a steady rhythm amidst internal chaos.
Only the worn yet steadfast heart will escape unscathed from bitter tongues.



rinnette
**ryn