delicate
There is something in the way the night settles in that makes me think of old trees standing up very straight in the forests of a place that I have not been to in a long time. There is an endlessness to the trees that plants desires in me for forever. I would like to have time on my side so that there would never be something that looms in the future; our imminent passing. In those forests is the home where you grew to be tall and your father is there. He has hands that are good for fixing and he touches steel like you wouldn’t believe and then the trouble is gone. You have not spoken to him for some years and when I see you I see a man without a father and that is something that life does; takes the man who made you away and leaves you to roam the woods alone.
