When I was little, my next-door friend and I
believed we could hide among the sunflowers.
Of course, our mothers saw us, but they never
let on, so we never knew.
When you plant a tree, you sow the thoughts of leafy morns and lovely afternoons. You plant the thoughts of beauty growing beneath the countless suns and moons...
I carved a heart you swallowed in bark
not out of hunger,
but ritual.
Every autumn you let go
more easily than I do.
Every spring,
you grew further from the boy who named you.