An empty swing hangs from a tree
Drifting in the airs varying touch
Vacant in his mind,
Where light shines upon the grass,
Stretching and leading
While shadows kiss the base of it's warm bark
This tree has a memory,
As the swing longs in its drift

This place
Where she used to reside,
Radiating magic and captivating flowers,
Remains dormant

The swing longs,
The tree mourns
The light, slightly dimmed and muddled

While remnants of her enchantment
Leave the scent of life and beauty embedded in every space
Her words once touched

Your words
Stick like dried glue
Held in my head,
I felt your hands without ever touching them

I miss the vision of what those words
Led me to believe
About you,
And the way your eyes matched with forest green

We talked briefly,
But a lifetime was told
Like an infinite book written with no pages

Your words stay as a reminder, though
Of the notes between the lines
Encased in a deep well within,
Where the water permeates my soul
And never dissolves the feeling shared in that moment

I'm unhinged
But pleasantly refined,
Transforming you into a
More interesting version of yourself
But I'll do damage

Your friends will look at you different,
Family too,
Watch, as you stumble and bumble about
Making claims with your filter-less freedom
I've seen it with all of them,
You are all the same

You'll laugh and play,
While I saturate your soul
Until, like the rest,
You'll forget
We know each other

"It's been a while"
She said, standing vacant
"I guess I crossed out the thought
of seeing you again"

Your lips, still young
I remember when we both were
Embraced in a hold of fate
That crumbled like an ember cast from the blaze

I stare quietly,
Eyes accusing with the same prejudice,
The wind and cold air entrap me in that old solitude
As you shine ever-bright,
the same

"It's good to see you", I say
Mustering a grin,
Knowing years have changed me,
As I turn and walk the other direction

You are invasive, and uninvited
Yet you appear every so often in my dreams
Sometimes I wish I would wake,
So as to catch you, and ask you to leave
What reason could you have?
To dance and flutter about,
To remind me of a carved tree?

When my eyes open,
My thoughts are flooded,
The floor within, stained with mud from your visit
A sign of your passing
As you are invasive, and uninvited

I see your flower has grown tired
Wilting slightly under your hand's weight,
Time has stretched its pedals,
and moisture left its stem

I see it dreams of youth,
It clings to the memories of the suns drink
Thirsting, it stays dormant
resting,
Under the shade of your palm