We are the trees

A Poem by dukovan

In the hour I will be
counting off seconds like the leaves.
Setting fire by the very sight, my eyes
burned with beauty in angry light.

Its not as though
I don't mean what I say.
Its just that the season will always change.

Listen to what your breath can do.
Cause a rustle,
cause a struggle then leave,
only to return.

For every flower that I see
I'm counting pedals until you leave,
just to pluck the feathers from
those angry trees.

I'm a friend.
I'm a bird.
You're detached from where you once perched.

Listen to what my eyes can do,
causing me to never sleep;
at the ceiling,
two stories they see through.

You're a friend,
the best I've had,
and you had to know what it meant.

As your friend,
I don't even know what I meant.