In the shade of a broken tree
I found time to pause and rest.
I saw shattered branches above my head.
Some had fallen in yesterday’s storm.
The organic curves of wood
had become twisted and sharp.

I was waiting for a friend.
A car came down the empty road.
My friend stepped out and smiled at me.

Sometimes we laugh at a memory:
His yard had a maple tree with a swing.
I was flying as he pushed me higher.
We were free and filled with love.

W. Wayne B.

Poetry book: Eyes of Hope

Follow me on Twitter: @wsmith1989

© 2019 W. Wayne B.
Original image: Maple Twins. By John Talbot [Image license]