There’s a gentle, wise tree
With leaves that remind me
The world’s fragility
And I dream of how it would be
If this was my reality
If I could always stay there
Taking refuge in its serenity
My eyes closed, soul open
My inner child free
In this dream
Where only a soft breeze
Can touch my leaves
As I become one
With the gentle, wise tree
Called poetry
Originally published in The Bower Monologues.
d i l a q u i s 