A Song From the Bottom

” Love is a tree with branches reaching into eternity and roots set deep in eternity, and no trunk” – Rumi

Waiting is a part I never wanted.
Your eyes are hazel, and your hair holds on
like my hand, which screams alongside the bed.

When you empty your heart, I fill the yard.
When you wear your green hat, I ask for more.

A night without you could make all of the
trees disappear and the chairs,
and the bed, and my shoes.
Without you, this house only knows how to die.

I have to come home and you have to leave.
I have to rest and the birds must sing
a casual dirge on the windowsill.