Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2015 · 883
Childhood
Molly Westfall Jan 2015
My children will have a childhood.
I will make sure of it.
They will swim in ponds littered with Lilly pads
Dive down to muddy depths like fearless fish.
Sink tiny toes into slick black mud.
They will thrash strong tanned legs
Toward the gleaming surface above.
And **** deep breaths of country air.

They will slumber beneath the stars
To the sounds of bullfrogs and singing crickets
And the frenzy of flickering fairies of the night.
They will use glass wands of glitter
Just as a magician might
To hammer
All at once the warm dry earth
Sending grasshoppers springing
In startled unison-
Like magic
To escape the alien vibrations.

They will run barefoot through fields.
Drag behind them a ******* beast named
Ballou or Bear- or something like it.
He who leaps on four legs
And licks with pink tongue.

They will dance to songs
They do not understand.
And fashion forts from fallen brushwood.
They will swing from high up branches
Only climbers of trees can reach.

They will discover an island of trees
Some sweltering summer day
As they wade through waist high
Green grass that breathes along
With the erratic waving of the wind.
They will claim it as their own.
They will name it Sail Away or- something like it.
And ***** a flapping flag of dishtowel and twig.

They will pull from backpacks
Granola bars and beef jerky
And gulp water from their base camp.
And return only when it is too dark
And they are too weary
To embark on any more adventures.
My children will have a childhood.
They will have one because I did.
Jan 2015 · 698
I Am The Tree
Molly Westfall Jan 2015
They have steadily been building up
Gathering-
Strengthening in numbers.
Each buzz growing louder
Creating a deafening hum.
All of my thoughts are drowned out by the hum.
Save for you.
You are the hum.

I am the tree.
I am the leaves that swing from the branches.
I am the flowers the burst forth
From tiny buds in the spring.
You are the bees.
You are the bees that hum in the tree.
Covering every inch of green that grows
Slowly taking my life.

Like a super swarm of bees
You came to me.
You learned my limbs
As the bee learns branches.
You pollinated the tiny buds
To make them grow.
Tender.
Caring.
With love.
What an exquisite duo the tree and bee.

But now you take
All that I afford
All that I have left.
The droning never stops in my mind.
It is all consuming.
A dark sanity swallowing fog.

The buzz has changed of late.
No longer a loving hum
But a greedy one.
You **** from me my very air
And I can't breathe.
You yield from my branches
All that you once loved.
You take my nectar
And leave me stripped.
Depleted.
Naked.
Alone.

You have taken my sweet nectar.
You have stolen my sweet nature.
Left me bitter
And blue.

When summer comes to an end
And the bees slowly leave the tree
Behind
The memories will begin to fade.
The humming will grow silent.
And the burning
Reds and oranges of my pain
Will seep into my leaves.
And each will fall.
They will call it autumn.

The buzzing will stop.
Each bee compelled toward
New plenty.
You will have flown away.
And I will stand.
Trunk
And limbs.
To suffer through winter
Until the day the bees
Return to my weary
Branches.
Return to my weary branches
And love me.

— The End —