At the ripe age of fourteen
she harvest her berries
threw out redemption
the red stain of her fruit oozed
in small dots
as they fell from her branches
and hit the ground.
As her seventeenth birthday came around
the spectrum changed colors
her leaves were all fallen
roots above the soil
branches following the trunk load
birds whispered in her ear
how great it was to fly
how tough to be grounded
She had no view of things
that high up
only watched as they fell apart
below her own limbs
plummeting deep into the soil
where no one would ever venture
Her mind had already betrayed her
battered branches
only the moon saw the beauty of her berries,
leaves, and roots;
so deep once before.
Now in a tangled mess
unable to fly.
The question is answered
in the breaking of another dawn:
If a tree falls in the forest does anyone hear it?