No longer a sapling,
But a budding fruit tree
You try to blossom,
But it never works out-
Whether it be forces of nature or
Your own hesitation

This time, it’s different.
Joy is meant to be released,
In the little seeds
That have begun to sprout

Your curve is fading,
Gradually rejoining the rest of your trunk
You have borne your fruit,
Yet a bite of this apple leaves me
With a sickening feeling that
It was never ripe

If not to touch the earth
and know your sun kissed skin,
if not to chase your shadow
through every place you've been.

If not to stand on mountains,
howling from the peaks,
if not to lie in fields
as melodic whispers weep.

If not to dance in forests
where tangled roots take hold,
if not to bathe in oceans
while eternities unfold.

If not to touch the earth,
upon me you would shine
and for that fleeting moment
I could call you mine.