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Mind Tree
The tree, knurled branches
in intricate filament twists.
Contorted like rhumatic fists
and introversion;
and my words crunch it tighter
as she looks to the white sky,
flat and bitter and icy and clear.
My words die unheard.
Why won't she hear?
The smells of peat,
smoke trails from bordering homes.
She feels alone,
and I alone with her.
Her thoughts are consumed,
swallowed and cried.
My love, warm and languid,
dies frozen outside.
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