Pain unravels slowly
like the filigree ends of a fern leave
unfurling in the dewy winter mornings
nature gives away the love
it stores and nurtures
the laughter it has saved
in those thick boughs of the oak
now old and thick
fell -opens to the wild
licking its wounds
grappling with the fear of being forgotten
the joys of being the swing
of squealing joys and laughter
hugged by those soft palms
calling it home
How can you see the fleeting pain
in those crumbled leaves of autumn,
losing that crimson tinge?
with every passing day
with the pain of the separation still
carved deep in their longing
these longings are cleaved deeply
on nature's soul
a pain too cryptic to decipher
for those who never learn,
how nature clings to its loss
like we all do.
Like we all do
L
