The Maple Tree

I am Young.
And my limbs are stretching,
Reaching for the pale blue sky.
In love with Love
But Love is not in love with me.

Love taps into me,
Draining and using
What sustains me,
My blood,
Sucking the sap that sweetly circulates
Through veins and core.

Love,
You kill me with enticing kindness,
Taking advantage of me,
Waiting for my demise.
You take the best of me.

I can't help the fact
That I am a Maple Tree...

Reviews

[Linda Crawford Ortiz]

At 19...you get this. It's wonderful, both that you get it and that you can place it in the corner of your mind like this in a possible bain way of saving it. No worry, tho'. Memories are nice, oh yea, but everything you do today will be a memory tomorrow.

Love your phrasing..."one, two...a dollar twenty three"
Love your word choice..."icarian chocolate" (special favorite in this piece)
"vapid notes of endearments'...oh, yeah!
Love the way it goes from free-flight of the child to the deliberate step of the young man to the hunched-over and seeking posture of one who has lost so much and is aware that it will most likely never be replaced...and even more sadly, won't be missed! This is great!