So long, so few trees,
so many more brought to their knees
in a place where few rose to replace them.
Now, the birds do call,
urging me to explore
a world painted each day seemingly for me…
senses paralyzed in disbelief.
It’s as if I’ve been too long gone
trapped on some distant world
waiting to come home again for the first time.
To lives nearly abandoned
seldom is a reprieve granted
those second chances bringing more than a heart can hold,
or so it’s told…
I whisper, “Thank you,”
and dry eyes glistening with dew.
Pen to paper,
and understanding the obligation bestowed,
I share what these eyes behold.
©May 2014, Christina Anne Hawthorne