In the evening,
I planted a seedling.
She was cupped in brown,
A sliver of gold streaking through
She would grow into a mighty tree,
Sitting round the corner of my
Black bee car,
As I revved up the engine,
Starting off the day with a roar
And a clatter.
She would grow to weather the storms,
The snow that coated her branches in
Cascades of white frosting.
Rainstorms that whipped her arms wildly
Back and forth, this way and that,
All but snapping her in two,
She would not stand for that.
She would grow as the sun would rise yellow and bright
In the morning,
And sink below the horizon again,
Painting the sky with shades of pink, purple and blue.
She would grow tall and strong,
Grow in her strength and her courage.
If she’d be human,
She would have electrifying red hair,
Blue eyes that gazed up at the sky with a
Proud grin that shone from her
She’d be an artist,
Clamoring her way through the country side,
Suburbia on one side of her trunk,
With the edges of the city resting on the other.
She would grow to be remarkable,
Her voice would drift into the breeze
With every carefree laugh and shrug of her
She would flourish into an eternal angel,
A woman who would steal my heart
And capture it again, only to let it roam free.
I planted her with love and care,
I shouldered her with my growing shield of courage,
And when the stars came out that very night,
I wished upon them for her to be great. . .
I was never disappointed.
A poem. Enjoy!! ❤