For my loving family, and those otherwise loved.
The Tree Not Climbed
I never thought an inanimate object could contain such animations.
Fruits ever weary of whats behind the bend,
where as the leaf changes colors at any and every whim.
Never ceasing to see, the bee flies carelessly,
as the humming bird quickly becomes three.
Two lovers in its midst carve upon it their love,
when ever it shall yield passion fruit from above.
Even family to be with life and tragedy,
as if pain and anguish left us with nothing left to see.
The ups and downs of life like who killed who,
or who died when is at a loss less than two.
More mosses than one could count,
from East to West, or North to South.
Taller each year from roots to leaf,
some I thought would never render belief.
If I could once more climb that tree,
arms and legs crossing branches filigree- there would be no questioning.