you are my sunshine.
a little prompt given during the lesson today, about drawing a tree with our eyes closed. written for the best mother i could ever ask for.
she used to say to stay away from the trees,
pale skin against coarse edges,
soft thumbs caressing damp fruits –
delicate soul unbefitting of the wilderness.
they always say its a matter of time,
feisty youth sprouting out of crumbling soil,
calloused palms intertwined with thinning branches,
hefty weight upon its intricate shoulders.
canopies, that’s where we’re all headed for
but the air’s too thin where we want to be,
and our hands though seasoned may slip –
grazed knuckles against thorns.
and we learn to settle for compromises.
she’s here wherever you pause,
where her, and undoubtedly your, roots tether firm,
where it’s become innate for her to pave the boundaries,
where she endearingly presses her palm against your forearms,
a soft embrace as she drops a few seeds in the soil
with every indent you make as you walk
barefooted after the rain passes.
when it rains, our dreams go up in flames, but our strings remain taut – this is where we belong.