your skin was the bark
of my favorite willow tree
I’ve never lived in the same house for
three years but
your smell brought me home.
time and time again.
I whispered “you my friend,
are irreplaceable.”
don’t let the tires of gas-guzzling
trucks run over your fragile leaves but
let people carve their names into you.
you’ll still be taller than them.
the moss that grows along the rivets
in your veins
let it grow
it adds to your existence, I’d say
I loved you but
I still do