Branching

Trees bow in winter dreams.

I'm so glad this is not me.

In depth of mind, wisdom creeps,

the branch of peace will meet my feet.

The trunk of wealth, roots our dear,

I often begin to find a tear.

Dropping from the height of mine.

Raining down the songs of when?

The fall of stealth, crashing in,

through the thin night air.

Gave rise to Oaks,

and eyes to sigh.

 Trees bow in winter dreams.

I'm so glad that this is me.

In depth of truth I do believe,

the branch of peace will meet with me.

  

K.A.P.

5/6/2009