Young Writers Society

* Meant to be almost like a stream of consciousness ballad. *

Sauntered up to that tree earlier today,
the one that invokes wonder in my soul
my perfect solid-self feels itself shatter-
was there any glass in the first place?

fences erect and birds make their nests,
people age like unused towels at the bar
Children wave and pass on by with butterflies.
Now it seems almost impossible to find...

A stranger walked along today;
after watching from this window from so high (this is strange)
he took a hammer to those nests,
a wrench to the fence and smirked with chocolate teeth

He turned and waved a hand down to me,
(cats sprawled out their paws before this all)
the branches were burnt and weak-
I was too scared to leap back on them again

This wasn’t the tree I used to know.
He kissed all of its wounds;
a fence erected, the birds nested
Standing on this plastic stump I felt feelings.

I saw shards in the grass below
that is when hands threw them away.
Instead, steel replaced the broken glass
Deviated buildings fell behind smiles.

Faintly blundering by the ticking stops
his hand cups my face
“I found this tree here,
I knew it belonged to someone

someone, somewhere, at sometime.
So I thought maybe I should fix it
just like patching up destiny.
You have the prettiest face,

this reminds me of sunny nights;
days dripped in sarcasm from the paint,
it peeled away my hope,
your gray eyes flood it back to me”,

and so we will hope.
The crack in this bark wanes,
insects scowl out below,
our hands never part.