Roots taught strong tethered fine;
Grapp’ling through soil.
Searing into a hot divine,
A sight to see: spruce and pine.
We often dance; through her I coil
She twirls away, slipping ‘neath my fingers.
Numbness in absence, cold like oil
Then loss lingers
And her bloods boil.

It was not love that led me back
But a fear laid in tomorrow.
For no night fades from blue to black
Without willingness of sorrow.

Sugar-coated finger bliss
Knows no child as turmoil
A parting gaze, unfinished kiss,
forever dreaming nervousness.