I saw the Willow droop its leaves
into a cup of tea, frigid and prim
I heard the tea scream at the
intrusion and the tree chuckle
as its fingers soaked up
the constant comment, burnt
umber in color, citrus in taste and
abandoned by its holder:
cozy hands to cup its sides
warm lips to caress its rim
The Willow soaks the dew and I
pluck at its newly infused leaves
the crunch is more sweet
than bitter, more citrus than soil
My knees ache I wonder if
I am getting old
like the last kamikaze leaves of fall
Are my roots brown, my head
green? I leap frog and dive bomb you
I get lost in the air and die
My last mission admittedly a failure
(I missed my target)
Leaves don't have knees and
I would rather be brown bodied suicide
arboreal foliage
than woman with chronic aches
and no airplane
Unwanted memories.
They are sad, the last leaf alone on a tree
brown at the base.
a kamikaze leaf that stood no chance and chose to leap,
that last fragment of arboreal decoration gave its life for its mother
its mother would not return the favor.
My memories have died
they jumped to their death
and they will rot
until no one remembers to
mourn them.
The formatting of the final poem is a bit odd within blogger so to see the proper formatting visit the link (click the title).