You, far away,
have uncurled your fist for the gentle one
who travels so far,
day after day,
to climb into your palm.
The author and site owner can be reached at leeundercedartrees@gmail.com.
You, far away,
have uncurled your fist for the gentle one
who travels so far,
day after day,
to climb into your palm.
You can’t stay here
You may stay here, should you choose
You are wanted here, by many, without a doubt
But it’s written all over every cell of your body
That you can not stay here
That you will not stay here
Nothing lasts forever
Neither episodes nor greetings
One day, none left
No more
Your fading presence will one day leave a hole in my life I’m not sure I could fill again.
You walk through my life with gentle steps, in shoes none other can fit.
One day the footsteps will become quieter. I’ll strain to hear them, and a sad echo will surround each distant tap.
.
July 12, 2025
(Reflections on a friend and predicted futures.)
When she lets you in, everything will change.
You will not be in our world anymore.
The world will swirl around you
and her
and her
and her.
.
July 7, 2025
(Reflecting upon the potential future romantic success of a friend.)
Steadily creeping
Future unpredictable
Feels more familiar
To my future self:
I will admit, I’m a little curious to meet you, but you are quite probably the biggest coward I’ve ever known.
Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be thankful later for your lack of conviction this year.
Just make it to next year. That part’s easy, right? I’m almost there! Please let me stay a little longer. Maybe I’ll find what I need. Just give me a little more time.
Eternity is a long time. Please stop rushing me. Eternity is patient. It can wait a few more months for me. It can wait a little longer. It can wait. It can wait. It can wait a little longer. I can wait a little longer. I can wait. I can wait. I can wait.
When I met you yesterday, T.
I sat with you for some time
Just listening
From the very beginning
You were precious
Eyes boring into mine
You were so animated, so excited
The more you talked
Realizing someone was listening
Really listening to you
…
She sits at a huge dining table
That was crafted amateurly
But with great care, in rich mahogany
Low warm lighting surrounds her
Stars twinkle through the windows
Her arms across her chest, she holds herself
Staring at an item on the table
Pondering
She remembers that she hates the smell of metal…