It's fine by me,
   I told you

for you to come
and follow by the
Spring
beneath the
Ash Grove trees,
droopy
Madrones that
cannot bear
the weight
of memory

I told you it
was fine as the
piano
continued
    to play
and the tension built
between the chords
and you and
I

being so close
to you
and feeling your breath
and your song
your pinecone
burdened
forest floor-
walking on
egg-shells

I told you it's fine,
so I'll stand beside
you,
but I'll also
be running
away.