There is an a long awaited silence as the wind turns the pages and the rustle of the leaves in the sound of the lost. I'm running all day so this bench under the tree strengthens me as I lay. Scoliosis is corrected, my back problems are to those who turned away from me- no chiropractor in need.
Just this tree, which was once much smaller than me came from a seed. Now it is sheltering me. I'm carving into the bench.
It reads, “help me for I'm a broken branch trying to be a tree I am miserably just me”