Staring out at my neighbor’s tree.
Is it only I who see? The beauty that is my neighbor’s tree.
I gaze and weep and cry to sleep nearby my neighbor’s tree. One thousand passers by but it seems that not an eye sees mine upon my neighbor’s tree.
If I needed your shade, your protection, your fruit, would I still admire you so for your beauty?
A single amputation scar at your base years overlooked, yet an intricate part of your story unknown to me.
You have lived longer than I. Do your rings bear the essence of past times? I wonder if you feel the despair or the grief that I feel in mine. It seems no matter the time you have purpose in either beauty or utility.
But…
In the absence of sun, you’ve no shade.
In the absence of warmth, you’ve no fruits,
In the winter, your leaves obscure nothing, as they’ve fallen and crumbled at your roots.
Without my gaze your beauty remains, but it is for no one. Meaningless and mute.
I think I’ll stay a little longer.
Staring out at my neighbor’s tree.
My neighbor’s tree.
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