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the wise ol' oak tree was the heart of the woods harboring little red squirrels; with their burrows in the trunk its roots running deep down, hidden below earth it had seen tales unfold, for good or for worse
it was a handed-down home to Arizona woodpeckers feuille morte beech leaves; spread out like a mat over the earth
little rays would escape the canopy and your cognac-laced eyes would beam like topaz gemstones
it was probably the moment I realized you'd always been the sun of my empyrean curve even on the days of cloudburst, you were still soft and welcoming; always a gentle touch
I scraped my knee once, a day to remember it was whimpering out of pain I sure troubled you a lot
you intertwined our fingers rubbing my tears away you had a heart of gold I hope you're still the same
