The tree where first we met
shaded us as I fell into your arms
giddy and spent, after you chased me
round it till I could run no more.
Squeals and laughter brought the
envy of onlookers as they spied our
perfect, private, public moment
tussling in the leaves…
All the world’s a stage.
Our tree in spring was vibrant green
and burgeoning with promise as we
picnic’d beneath it discussing all
our hopes, plans and dreams.
We happily languished in the
euphoria that is new love.
The tree, our tree, is barren now…
Under wet gray skies I cling to it
for support, lest I collapse into a pile
as you walk away with the pieces
of my heart.
Broken and hollow …I delicately trace
our initials once carved with enthusiasm
into the bark with all the others.
It occurs to me how many love stories
this tree must have seen play out…
I can only hope none of them have
ended as tragically as ours.