The world looks freshly painted
directly after the rain,
each surface glistening in the streetlight:
newly created.
As if a great artist
in a flash of inspiration
(like the strike of lightning
that preceded this storm)
envisioned this all in her head,
called it instantaneously into being
on her canvas.
All the colors, still wet,
slowly flowing into each other.
The pavement, the fallen leaves,
my footprints trailing through.
At the corner, I look behind me.
My footprints are gone, ****** into the paint;
it smoothed itself out as I passed, in my wake.
Wet and breathing spring: a perpetually-renewing clean slate.

Her easterly side
lies barren and marred
A persistent reminder
of deeply wounding scars

I feel her conviction
to never let herself grow
attesting to the impact
that a love lost bestows

To those who don’t know her
she appears vibrant and pristine
Hidden within layering branches
the pain of separation unseen

But I know her sorrow
we are connected through pain
The evergreen and this woman
wear the residue of love’s stain