The trees

This poem breathes like a whispered prayer in the middle of a forest no one has named. There’s something delicate here, a softness on the edge of disappearance, like a presence you almost touch in a dream but never quite hold. The repetition of “I look through the trees, / Through the night branches” is beautifully done. It creates a rhythm like footsteps, or the steady beat of longing. There’s something sacred in this choice, as if the forest itself is a kind of chapel where you go to listen for the unseen. “Everyone sleeping / Everything still” gives the poem a lovely, hushed tone, like the world is holding its breath just for this moment to happen. If you ever choose to expand it, you might try adding a small, tender detail, maybe something from the world around you that echoes the feeling of being alone but not lonely. A breeze, a distant sound, a shadow. The most touching lines are: “That’s when I feel you / Waking and stretching / Looking for me too.” There’s so much love in this image: quiet, mutual, natural. You don’t say who “you” is, and that makes it even more universal. It could be a beloved, a soul twin, or even a part of the self that got lost in the dark. That ambiguity is part of its beauty. The line “Where would I go?” is small but powerful. It carries longing, but also certainty. It tells me that this love, this presence, is home. I think that’s the soft pulse of the whole poem, this search that is really a way of staying. The return to the first image in the last lines: the trees, the night branches — gives the poem a full circle. It feels like you’ve walked through a moment and returned with something glowing in your hands. If I were to suggest anything at all, it would be only this: trust the silence even more. The poem is already quiet and intimate, but sometimes a pause between lines, or one unexpected image (a sound, a breath, a light), can make the feeling deepen like still water. But truly, this is a gentle, lovely piece. It reads like the kind of thing someone might whisper to themselves when they can’t sleep, hoping the one they miss is whispering too. Keep writing these soft psalms, Tamie. The world needs them. With sincerity & admiration, Florin Lacatus

Team poetry soup, not yet but I'm working on it ❤️

Miss Fraser, thank you so much for your comment. It means the world to me. It brought tears to my eyes. I live in a very bad situation and I just started writing and stuff just started coming out. Thank you again, really.

Your poetry is heart-felt and and nice to read. In The Trees, who is beside you? I'm not sure what emotion you are portraying here. But a beautiful poem.

Did you find your way back home???