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The Tree

following impulse
to unplanned destinations
looking for a place to escape
from the dull of now
my tiny world slows
and I grasp the fading evening
as it lingers on the soft grass
I wander in my waiting solitude
back to the emblem of my childhood
ducking under evergreen drapings
into secluded memories
silent branches twist
into the canopy
with a mind of their own
untouched by time
polished by years of loving hands and feet
and mine
the texture and turns
come back as I climb again
the paths that could have been
forgotten
but I’m remembering
and I can see the ghosts
of the children we used to be




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