Poems, Volume 1

If Trees Could Speak

If Trees Could Speak,

would they weep for fallen leaves,

or rejoice while they wait for

new accessories?

Would their voices shroud the sound

of their rustling limbs?

Would they speak our language,

or something ancient,

old, and forgotten?

You've always been a tree, you know.

Open ears and closed mouth,

forever cursed to listen.

I'm the bird that nests in your bough.

I've found solace in your silence,

and comfort in your gaze.

I've been wondering, my friend,

is my song a calming tune

or a screech?

If trees could speak,

I'd regret watering their

blooming curiosities

all those times before.

Surely,

their mouths would run

like syrup.

My secrets would escape

and drift through the breeze,

like leaves.