She hit me,

A fallen tree in the woods.

No sound, no brush up against me.


Unobserved, right above the Below.

The place I've called mine,

Until now.


I knew the entire time she was there,

Broken, but still full of color.

Waiting for a wander, a set of eyes to meet.


She's not gone, I know it.

Each and every fiber holds her to me.

I am her keeper, the place for her roots to dig.


The fruit she bears is a wholesome savor.

Yet spit out is the pit of its sweet exterior.

Surface knowledge to others, perhaps.


But deep down, to her core,

Her seed was what I saw.

Now stuck in the Below, soiled.


It was my Below, but she gave it purpose.

She dug deep, piercing the rock bed beneath.

I can see her new roots as I imagine her sap.

Others can see her Above.


But she is apart of my Below.

The End

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