The Giving Tree

Bare fruits of joy and wicked limbs for little boys

I see you

What lies left is the stump of a dark brown soul

Gone, just gone

My tears catch in the hollows of my eyes and away they go with beaten fingers

To be forgotten, wiped clean

I weep for you, I feel for you, I . . .

feel you

Always giving pieces of yourself to anything that comes by and looks your way

Anything that validates your existence with a quick stare

What a marvelous beauty you are when your limbs grace the airy pools of the summer sky and rain tumbles across the wrinkles of your torso

When fiery feathers of dust crinkle at your feet and ignite your bare body.

But now, what's left?

You've given all of yourself to the world, and they've thrived in glory,

Prospered in joy,

Celebrated in love,

Only to come back to you when it doesn't last.

Asking for more.

Is this what your beauty requires of you?

Sacrifice and martyr

Is this what's left of you?