The stability of a tree

Her mind was in the ground,
With dirt,
And the worms,
And the sticks,
And moles.
Her ideas stretched like branches,
To the sky,
And stars
Her dreams tousled like leaves
In the wind,
Some falling to the ground,
Some flying away.
And her beauty blooms like flowers
Looked over,
And gone too soon
As my feet sink into the warm dirt,
My toes becoming roots,
My body becoming stump,
I realize she,
Is me.

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