we were just children, innocent and free
passing the time underneath that tree
boundless giggles and secrets shared
trying anything that our small limbs dared

you were a bit odd, but so was I
with you I cold be anyone: a hero, a spy
but something in you was never secure
of our friendship you were no longer sure

slowly the tree began to sway
that tree under which we would play
the leaves began to fall one by one
as our bonds were carefully undone

I kept faith, but you never could
and so that tree became nothing but wood
but there I still stood, looking at a graveyard
thinking that I could still keep guard

then I realized the bitter truth:
we are no longer the people we were in our youth
so you can have your friends, and I'll keep mine
and our roots will not again intertwine

and maybe the tree will grow anew
for different children, whose friendship is true.

it isn't all black and white
the choke-hold of history

shades of red and brown
paint the scenery, too

the documented imagery
forgotten in the fray

a little big horn playing mournful
songs as the cavalry marches on
to the tune of galleons and guns


no passport required
when the port was young

émigré and immigrant
displacing native sons

who also once were pilgrims
breathing in the sun.

Though the moon still rises
And the sun still sets
My limbs are still broken
The cuts are still fresh
They say time heals all wounds
But these ones just fester
Wrapped in bandage memories
Of the time we spent together

I can see myself
destroying
my own dignity,
popping it like
bubble-wrap
and watching as it
deflates
under my
forcible
fingertips.

tell me how my eyes
told you things words never could
how you could dance
to the sound of my laughter
how my hands were
the anchor of your sanity
how when i slept
the world was a little less bright
how my smile stopped time
then tell me how forever
ended so quickly