We planted a seed and now it

grows a sturdy little tree

sprouted from nothing. I

supposed it was just nothing.

or was it really nothing?

Then why can’t we cut down

this tree we grew from planting?

Do I keep it in remembrance of you

or do you keep it with my memories?

It’s not a tale that I fancy.

It’s cold rain,

sharp daggers that

falls from the heavens.

The visions of the past that

I see in that sturdy little tree.

~ by fyxe on February 21, 2007.