Gangly legs belonging to the beloved dangle and swing beneath the stern branch
Covered in faded denim as the breeze ripples through
The slight embrace of the arms of her to thy branch
Her thin fingers touch to the rough bark at which crumbles before her grasp
Her hair liquid as the air trickles through the spaces in between
The tree engraved, though only home to one
Novels of the greatest liking crowd its arms
The base home to a piano that plays only the finest melody
Visitors may pass only if wished by the girl
Organic in the way she moves
It is he whom she waits
He enters and his stubborn façade is relevant
As he paces towards the trembling tree
She does not take notice for she is day dreaming
As her hands skim her lush lips
He moves the hand of which she was given
He presses his to hers as the sweet taste overcomes
Salty remedies trace her soul windows as she takes notice to whom has kissed
It is he, he as to she who can wipe away the tears as they wash away the sprinkled freckles that dance on her completion
Who enters her daydreams in which the last puzzle piece, no appearance it made
No whisper slips the mouth which astonishes the one who owns
Effortlessly he whisks her in his dominant arms
He speeds to the river of her endless thoughts
Plunging her into crisp quick flowing waters
He slowly loses her in his arms as he drowns away her miseries
The terrors attacking the mind of her spirit
Be gone, for they have left
She arises above the surface, stunned to say the least
The one she has forgotten that haunts her imagination
One for they are
In every part they shall remain in, the tree that catches their dreams