I’d like to run my fingertips through thickets of dark hair
rest my head on the soft rise and fall of your earth
plant kisses in the soil of your neck, repair
tiny fractures in your branches, grant a small rebirth
I’d like to water your roots with whispered secret words
to nourish the pictures moving through your mind as you sleep
hoping my face might materialize behind eyelids as you stir
my leaves would weave a blanket, my buds would graze your cheek
Someday you’ll wake from the wintry slumber of her arms
take timid first steps through autumn-fallen leaves
you’ll grasp at my voice whispering like the wind, race toward my charms
where my branches will stretch out, waiting to receive
For now you’ll stay encased in an ice-age dream
and I’ll wait for you just out of reach, taking root downstream.