It is not the pale moon that brought you here
nor the longing for a sober night. There is
a sliding melody between your footsteps,
and your lips whisper a song
full of vowels to the wind.
I can read the sorrow in your eyes, better
than the scintillating symmetry of the stars. And
if you could feel the pulse of my quivering roots
underneath the weary soles of your feet, you may know
how to use my branches for lumber
during those nights when you need warmth.
Use my leaves as shelter, when the falling snow seeks
to numb your skin. When you are angry,
you are free to peel off parts of me. And carve out
little bits of your secret thoughts on my bark
when you are lonely.
All I want, is to be
the shade that protects you
from the scorching eyes
of the world.