Trees
how often have
I turned to you
as to friends
unquestioning
incapable of
judgment
of ridicule
censure
derision
apathy
you whose
only fault
is that you speak
so softly at times
that I can't hear
your words of
comfort
or am I the one
who isn't listening
closely enough
mistaking your sighs
for the wind
your tears
for dew
your arms about me
impediments
to my journey
when you
you
are all
I've ever been
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