Once, he told me throw the egg at the tree.
He pointed, “There,” and threw one himself.
The egg weighed in my hand. Him waiting for me.
I threw. Trust to him and fear off its shelf.

Golden by birthright, his heart and his soul.
He bloomed without boundaries; carefree perfection.
He loved like a mother as if was his role.
He hand built his world; to him a small action.

Dreamt of him last night , it’s been a while
Robins blue eggshell: color of his eyes
They captured his mind and carelessness; fragile
Forgot to count the cracks, weakened though wise.

I should’ve grasped while others took their piece.
His hair without color signaled withdrawal.
I never made promises; free for release.
But, I'd told him “Don’t worry I won't let you fall.”

I picture the tree to which the eggs were thrown.
Where he’d thrown his trust back and now hung alone.