The Maple Tree

The branches reached far into the sky, as if the leaves craved a taste of the clouds. So full of life, and hope. Ignorant to the inevitability of death. The twigs withstood the harsh winters and windstorms to experience the warmth of the beautiful summer sunsets. The lowest hanging branch was home to a fibrous rope laced to a wooden plank. A swing. Though such a simple structure, it witnessed countless children's smiles and laughter. The essence of the maple tree reflected the years of happiness it had felt. The initials of lovers were carefully carved into the ridges of bark on the base of the trunk. But soon the rope frayed and the wood splintered. The lovers grew old and divorced. The leaves grew depressed and began to wither. The splintered wood that held many joyous children was lost to a brutal windstorm. Leaving behind just the line of rope. The life of the branches slowly faded away. The sound of children's laughter still haunted the air. The children turned into adults and developed their own lives and forgot about the memory of the swing. Except for one. She visited the tree one evening, however her face did not glow with the smile it had the last time she glanced at her childhood playground. Instead she stood blank and emotionless. Her life became difficult. Her thoughts became dark. She wishes she could go back to playing on the old swing. She began to try on the frayed rope like a necklace. As if it was covered in pearls and diamonds. She watched her last beautiful summer sunset as she took her final breath. Her wish came true. She would lay forever next to the tree, her youthful spirit eternally playing on the swing.