opportunity cost

are you bitter, mother branch

for weeping such a cost?

a leaf's a love at last sight,

a leaf's a love at loss

are you blind, old man winter,

pruner of all hands?

the cold's a crying forest,

the cold's a woeful land

november yawns at dusk,

til dawn's warm hand

touches her shoulder,

reluctantly, she wakes,

realizing

she's one year older today,

and so am i.

are you safe, darkened room,

a coffin like the ground?

a bed is but a seed's rest,

a bed is not a sound.

are you tired, empty road

of traffic's rumbling drone?

a passing car's a past away

a passing car's gone on,

alone.

and november yawns at dusk,

till dawn's warm face

brushes her shoulder.

reluctantly, she wakes

realizing

she's one year older today

and every time i wake,

i'm also one year older

than the day the trees began to cry

and this place became colder.