Amalie@kua

My oldest friend,

so old and almost forgotten, golden memories like her gleaming leaves disconnecting, dying, decaying in the brown of the brush below. 

If the sky above you 

should turn dark and full of clouds

Paint your palette blue and grey

look out on a summer’s day

We all need somebody

It’s moments like these I wish would never end. 

The sky would never fade into the dark. 

The sea would never storm.

The news would never catastrophize,

"Please explain a tree,"

I ask, and before

The natural silence of pondering, 

The chirping of thought as woven melodies,

The rotation of gears churning into place,

The water wilderness yearns to be wild, no more.

The streets: gone

once flooded with us, 

not the stream

The dam: gone

Sometimes, 

they think the forests must have been constructed,

around the railroad. 

That the tracks were built up from Earth long ago,