When you died I planted a seed in my garden soil, a laurel tree seed.
I think of it as your heart living on even though the rest of you is gone.
Its leaves are all your life experiences and when it rains I'm sure your shining leaves curl just a little at the tips from joy; you always loved the rain.
Hot days come and I lie in your shade and listen to your versions of the times we shared, spoken soft into the wind.
Yes I cry at times, I can't wrap my arms around bark and feel the same comfort that you brought.
But when tears roll I swear your thin branches frolic; to me maybe you're saying there are still such good things to come.