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Tree, whose bony fingers stretched above gloved branches, you danced in the sunlight, elegantly bowing for scampering squirrels and gifts of birdhouse rings. Tree, whose springtime blossoms scattered petals for make-believe weddings, you caught up children and hugged them tightly in games of hide and seek. Tree, I run my fingers along your weeping scars where Earth’s fury tore your hand from mine. Splintered memories, I have less air to breath.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2013

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Date: 3/10/2013 11:20:00 AM
Good morning, RACHEL;-) Congratulations on having your poem featured this week. Have yourself a nice and sweet Sunday. ~Always & Forever *LINDA
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Date: 3/4/2013 2:40:00 PM
A tree lover - me too. Congrats on the selection. daver
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Date: 1/20/2013 3:15:00 PM
Beautifully written... We've had so many disasters in the last few years and it takes sooo many years to grow a tree.
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