Remember

300 years 

have passed. 

You were as old as time. 

Your leaves dropped 

every winter, your flowers 

were received with a gasp. 

Strangers joined 

under your blossoms, 

sharing the shade with the grass. 

What a colorful image! 

All realms mingling 

without spite. 

How I long to remember 

morning dew in spring, 

the rooted stillness, 

the language of the wind. 

How I long to recall 

the thread between lives,

the web that connects us all, 

the instant when you were I.