Japanese Maple:

When I was free to do anything,

I chose to rot.

In the shade of the Japanese maple.

The one I used to climb,

when I was a boy.

It was my brother’s favorite tree.

It had never occurred to me to pick.

No matter who’s favorite she was,

I loved her shade, and would

rest in her branches.

Tomorrow is another day,

but that’s nothing surprising.

Yesterday was another day too.

Did you ever notice?

Would you care if you did?

Say hello to how you’ve suffered.

Touch your scars and learn their names.

Remember your past through the

pages yellowed as they are.

Rot with me, in the shade.

Beneath the Japanese maple.

I’ll whisper your name,

let it ride on the breeze.