Here lies the remains.
Something that would have worked if... Roots planted in forever. Reaching far beyond the surface; reaching a new frame of thinking, which branched endless possibilities. Went out on a limb for love without hesitation. Okay there was two hesitations, but those later flourished, sprouting leaves the size of hands; hands that held insecurities and fear of reliving the past. Hands that multiplied, and encompassing the perched twigs. They too grew. Rustling in the breeze, the hands waved to the passersby always in a hurry. But not the tree- patient, sturdy, and classic. No carvings of two initials signifying whom held the other's heart, just bark- no bite. The tree remained. Remained through the cyclone that uprooted several towns. Remained through torrential rain that filled a third of the way up the trunk. Remained through frozen nights with beauty, standing proudly with icicles and glazed remains of any leaves (hand-sized). The tree just was. The presence it created was unmistakable. It's beauty was the ideal vision of rarity. It possessed everything needed to surpass generations of life, but then it didn't. It didn't grow fruit and it didn't provide shade. Spectators questioned its height and surveyors drafted proposals. The branches that stretched out towards the sky to get kissed by every sunrise were very much alive, just like the hands dressed for the weather's occasion. The robust trunk touched the arms of little ones attempting to wrap themselves around it a time or two while their parents took a recess from Highway 288. But they were soon gone, much like the appreciation for wild oaks. A decision was made, to much dismay of the two whose love created the tree and a series of chops, with shiny blades, severed the tree. Severed the growth, Severed the time, Severed the opportunity to feel sunsets and the opportunity to stand at all. Severed the strength which it once believed was rooted in resilience. Severed the memory to those not invested. The agony of the severance is that the stump still remains. The roots that took a hold of its truest desires and became something of merit, is now a legend, falling off the lips of very few passersby. But the two loves refused to extinguish the memories of what stood on the stump. After all, it's all they have left...
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AuthorChef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart... Archives
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