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]
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