My words are many and make up  loosely woven green sleeves for Spring. The fresh ideas and dreams comfort you in the summer with their shade. I fall for your smile and follow you to the river and  you come to me with your picnics and dress me in hammocks.

I watch your how your limbs dance and rock in the wind and how you carry your trunk carelessly and bare into the stream. You make me quake and sway. I have no words for you, they all dangle above you unready and unfinished works and broken loose associations.

I swear that I’ll change and my words will ripen and heavy until I can no longer fight the urge to reach you. I’ll  throw blankets of songs and stories all ripe, warm hues to kiss your face where I cannot. In my native tongue, I have no sounds save for slow deep hums, crackling jokes and gentle whispers that can only be heard with the wind but I’d break myself trying to make it to consonants and vowels. I’d die for you to hear me but fear the words drive you away. These seasonal charms all saved for an audience of one, who can see the joy and life in all but forget to look down at your feet or up near the sky to see who stares back at you with everything that I know.

As life burrows down deep and tickle my roots, I’d pray You’d come back to me and I’d keep you warm. You struck me and left me bare, I pray only that God grant a quick gift and second strike to finish the job. I’d fall over that stream and you’d feel the crash but would you know that I fell for you? My last wish, to leave you that bridge, to find your way. I’d leave a cabin built of me and oh how I’d hold you and oh how I’d keep you but you wouldn’t notice me beyond a friend and inanimate thing.

The life water begins to run still and freeze and I scream and I scream and I scream but no more than any tree. I hope this is it and awareness leave me and I can return to the earth with no more hope or ambitions for words and love. Sleep.

I wake  up find myself Green eyed again and staring at you, your smile and skin are ripe.  I am behind but with fresh ideas and open mind -til God choose it, your mute cursed to hold and let go live and die til sentence is up and some greater fate take me elsewhere.