falling over roots of past love
bumps permanently in route
covered by lichen
hidden nearly completely by time
run safely
dance lightly
for the roots are always underfoot
emerging even in the clearest of meadows
where brooks babble
fauna flock
flowers grow freely
a refuge from roots

even in this refuge
roots start to emerge
they see the brook with thirsty eyes
they long for one long sip
be careful
for when they spring up
fauna will panicked
flowers will refuse to bloom
dismantling your safe place
wanting to consume

don’t stand idle
for the roots will wrap you up
reclaim you as their own
leech water from your brook

safety is a desert
dark, dry, and dull
no brooks
no flowers
no fauna
no place for you at all