awaiting the tree huggers

And when you would return
from your imagined wars
rowing boats in melting snow
I would still be here
under our tree
collecting dreams for you and I

of golden fish in waters blue
of grasses waving in changing hue
of rain drops on windows, clouds in sight
of mountain tops on a moonlit night
of laughter
of warmth
of hope, for each other’s flight
I dream
that we would again
hug our tree with all our might


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