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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

Submitted: April 16, 2018

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Submitted: April 16, 2018



Long forgotten are the days

Of gentle simplicity

Of avocados and soft breezes

Of life without maturity;


Long gone are the soft sunsets

Rays of smiling golden light

Peering through the leaves

Of my strong, sturdy, wise tree.


The branches were strong,

Comfortable, calming,

Hugging me gently, coolly

Securely unsettled.


I carved my name into its skin;

The thick, smooth bark now bears

My name proudly, in crooked print

And uncertain declaration.


The me that once sat

Regally atop tree branches

Has faded into another–

I am no longer her.


Were I to cut into the tree,

Would I recognize the rings?

Would I remember each layer of bark

Each year of lazy mornings

And gleaming orange sunsets

And would I see my past?

Like the tree, I too am comprised of layers

Time adding its essence to my skin

Experience and maturity like bark

Adding to me as time goes on.


But the more these layers compile,

The more I lose touch with my source–

The center of my layers is lost

Hidden behind years of stress

Estranged relationships

And confusion.


Have I lost my roots?


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