We went to the arboretum.
It was almost winter, and the blush
On your cheeks made you look younger
Than you had in a long time.
I was hoping the maple leaves
Could breathe fire back into your eyes,
And heal the sickness nestled
Deep within your bones.
The trees were turning
Maroon, and you knew it was a cycle
Like the legume seeds waiting
For the right time to fall.
The lush, deep pines,
Green beyond words or description.
Your eyes turned misty as you
Wondered out aloud whether God
Could grant you the strength,
Deep within yourself, to obey
That natural order of things, and when the time comes,
To let go.
We passed the bare magnolias,
Silently. I think life without you
Would be a wasteland of barren trees.
