A Million Words I Can't Say Out Loud

a spring tree

A seedling planted
unknown to how it'd grow.
It's been something i want to know.
How, something that holds so much of the unknown is cherished so dearly.

As the seedling sprouted.
Its identity is being embedded.
Like embroidering a scarf, each movement of the needle careful and precise not to mess with the scarf itself.

The bigger the seedling grew the more it saw the world. The harshness if the sun. The violence of the wind.
With them comes the cool occasional breeze and praises from human.

"How big you've grown. I bet ur going to grow into a beautiful weeping cherry"

A weeping cherry. Seems suitable.
A tree that cherishes both a sad yet beautiful appearance. Something so calming and familiar.

The older the tree grows the more it starts losing its former beauty.
So beautiful. So unique.
That it didn't even get to be seen with the other trees.

There then lies a tree.
In all it's beauty standings strong even alone.
A depressing beauty I call it.

Here I stand. Next it. Admiring the beauty which was once something I wanted nothing more.
But here I have something I would have never have asked for.
A tree that shows me both beauty and pain.
Something of it so mundane. Yet never fails to take my breath away when i realized it.

There stand a tree.
Then there stands me.

Hello darling angels, I returned with another poem. Hope you like it.
Stay safe and happy ☺️ ☺️
Love you 😘

- nia