The upper branches
Of the Family Tree
Are visible.
I'm not near the base
Where I used to be.

There are fewer branches above;
And as I move there's
More and less to love.

Some limbs above have broken,
Suffered drought and heat
Through the elements of life.
But the trunk is true, strong,
Stalwart and flexible
As the lineage of its rings,
These expanding circles of life.
And above,
The transplanted branches
Were rooted with love.
Sprouts apppear below,
As further up I go.
And my limbs
Are moving slow.

Because “yes”
Means yes
And “no”
Means no,
Especially when I’m being
Ever so
Serious with the things
I’m seeing
From you; Messaging
But never speaking.
Stop asking questions when
I say so (then
Maybe I’d try to
Be nicer to
You).
There are reasons as to why
I don’t really cry
In front of those I can’t rely
On. Stop bugging me
And then we’ll see.

Your fingers hum the introduction of regret,
Your tongue sings the refrain of apology,
And your eyes, when I can see them, vibrate the silent sound of unknowingness.

Your song is one I do not recognize, or know,
But still, I wish I could sing it with you.

I forgive you.

Loneliness smells like plums
From grandmother's garden

If only the characters I read about in books
Were actually alive



Oh how much more
Would I love this world