Crooked tree,
you seemed two things to me at once.
Growing from a crevice in the rock,
your trunk echoing your gnarled root:
it had to wind through stone to taste earth.
An old and hardened man,
yet stooped and fragile.
I knew you!
My friend?
There was something deep
inside that made me think
you loved me,
though you gave me nothing but silence.
What happened to you when I had gone?
Was the winter wind too cold?
I said goodbye,
though I never wanted to leave you alone.
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