time-to-time i spend my night
under the only beloved redwood tree
where you waited for me
when i didn't know a pretty source of light
and lonely i was in spite
of the uncertainty masked by the so-called joy
that only gave me fright—
but you held my hand to only destroy
what it felt like to love when you died—
when you died, i didn't cry
and i spent the midnights with my soul near the sea
i knew you would come back to me, to our old redwood tree
i waited long, but you left me dry
became a liar, that started a series about you holding me tight
i made a friend that was equally coy
and spent my days with him on the electronic light—
then, made myself an authoress, that played with a school boy
as i, failed to see me through his sight
pass the endless tears of aftermath that remained
after my own careless, self sabotaging hurricane
beloved, i am back to our old redwood tree
months on the end, with a life i don't know how to spend
i'm searching, but, i need to know,
are you still waiting for me?
because, now, i'm below the old redwood tree
i'm hoping for you to come set me free
underneath our only redwood tree