The Woods

On my short walk through the woods

I thought about the past,

growing nostalgic 

for my old relationship to her;

her thorns on her branches

formerly sticking to my pants, now, 

once again do so.

I am nostalgic

for the protection she gave me 

and how I trusted her to save me with her beauty

from the wrongs I had committed,

her long leaves dangling over me,

covering me from the the eyes of consequence.

I trusted her.

And so everyday I went back to her,

more loyal than before.

And when the colors of fall

turned to gray and white,

and the wet air turned to chill

I remained her companion.

I saw her frigid cracked ice, 

as she saw mine.

And when the snow finally melted 

and the birds had returned,

she had thanked me in my final days with her

by remaining after the departure

of my companions.

And so I come back this year

to see her once more.

And I trust her

as I always have.

And I when I visit again

in my old age

there will be but mere remnance of her

because society wanted her to change;

but society needs to change.