I miss the days when we’d sit beside poppies and giggle under the tree.

Sometimes there were plenty of us

Or maybe just two,

Sometimes it was only me.

Lime leaves loomed,

Brittle branches listened,

Suns seemed so much brighter,

Even in solitude,

She uplifted.

And as my mood swung her hues did too.

From green to yellow to orange that contrasted the sky’s blue.

She understood,

And hugged me so very tight.

Heard my juvenile cries

So small in hindsight.

There her twiggy trunk still stands,

Upheld by hidden roots that hold these lands.

She swishes and swooshes,

Changes and amuses,

She is the same.

But I look at her and reminisce,

Of her nature that warmed me,

And old suns and moons who I greatly miss.