Love Poem of a Maple Tree

I look straight through my window, and find to my surprise
That the tree of past adventures has sprouted several eyes.
He’s really quite the poet, and I listen to his tale
Of his years beside my window sill, years I remember well.

It’s April, of a lovely year, and I am small and bold
I crawl into his pale green cradle, from which I watch the world.
His arms, though young, are sturdy, and in them he makes a nook
For a little girl, her daydreams, and her favourite storybook.

It’s June, and he’s magnificent, and we are both so proud.
From his peak I am invincible, hidden in an emerald cloud.
But the wind is laughing also, of which we’re not aware
As she runs her slender fingers through his thick and glossy hair.

September comes so brilliantly; he’s new to me, and vain.
His years of watching me are put aside with childish games.
It’s warm within his branches, though the cradle shakes with pride
And there’s something in the air that smells of change, of trembling time.

He doesn’t like to tell this part, of the months that followed fall
For the wind was always laughing, though we never laughed at all.
His face freezes in sadness, for he knows that I grew old
In the nook that once was full of life, and now shivers in the cold.

I lean my body out the window, now, to meet this stranger’s face.
His eyes regard me silently
And I wonder, at his grace.

Thanks in advance for reading and commenting! I'm definitely trying to think of a different title