Reid@YWP

When I was little, we lived in Philly. Seven hours from where we live now, eight counting the time allotted for rest stops. And a little ways down the sidewalk from our house was this tree.

Dear daughter of Earth, 

I am not naked, rose-lipped, chapped and chaste in a poetic caste and silhouetted erotically before sunset and starlight like the Thinker gazing across foreseeable perpetuity. 

Where light touches you 

I see every little crack in your lips, 

and every tiny hair on the side of your face 

I see every single cell of skin, 

Do you still remember me? 
After all these hours that turned into days 
That turned into months then years 
Do you still remember? 

Every vow cried to the tip of a saber,

Every soul sold to a higher or lower power,

Every road paved to lead others astray,

Is nullified.

Revoked,