flowers for an unmarked grave

She passes by the tree every morning,
Watching the leaves sway as the sun glistens through the branches,
Never stopping to admire nature in her silent glory,
Not until she returns much later to a setting sun.
There is something foreboding about watching the sun descend,
Like she knows her time is limited to this single moment,
Captured in the beauty of the violet and blue and red (like splattered blood) skies.
She waits until the dusk has settled to look away,
Blinking away the tears, rubbing her eyes ready to face …tomorrow.
(Her eyes never leave the sky and its wonders)

The leafs sway gently in the wind, not breaking off branches and strong foundation,
She watches and waits, for something new to arrive to her nature scenery,
But all she is left with are leafs and the roots of a tree not meant to be moved.
She hears children laughing, and dogs chasing their playful masters,
Yet she can never seem to muster the courage to approach them
Fearful they will see right through her and silly fascination for nature.
So she stays by her tree, never leaving its shadow. Despite how long it had become.

It is not until one day when a boy makes his way to the tree,
Climbing and swinging: she had never moved herself away from her tree until now.
He carves initials into the bark that make her stop and look towards the ground.
He is a tiny creature, with wide eyes and two missing teeth.
She had forgotten what youth looked like, shaped in innocence and magic and life.
She needs to know more, about this boy and his notion of life,
But her tree does not let her leave the safety of the branches,
And she is forced to watch him walk away into a sunset of blood and lavender.

It has been so long since she has seen the world,
Surely it has to be greater than the solitude of a tree,
But she cannot leave, no matter how she earns and begs and cries to be released.
She had never been able to stray far from that tree, she realized,
But how was she suppose to know this was her finally resting place,
Trapped in a moment she can’t remember but will always repeat,
This is where her body had sunken into the Earth, cold and abandoned.
Trapped in the silent beauty of nature, only to be gazed upon in passing,
For who would leave flowers for an unmarked grave?

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11 thoughts on “flowers for an unmarked grave

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