She is a girl ever changing,
like the seasons.
Moving from fall to winter,
spring to summer,
and everything in between.

She is the familiar, the same soft pitter-pat
of the rain,
comforting,
even as it pounds down
above your head.

She is
warm
like the Starbucks Pumpkin Latte,
cool
like the early morning drizzle leading to
dew.

Her leaves change,
revealing other colors,
new layers.
Her branches intertwine,
holding others close,
at sharp ends.

Leaves decay,
crunch, getting lost,
ground into by the day to day routine
as people pass through.

She turns cold, uninviting, tired.
White as a ghost,
she curls into a ball and dies,
waiting for the bright sun to return
and warm her from the inside out.