Monday, February 2, 2015

Apple Trees

dreaming in an apple tree

before it is split by the storm

now it's blooming in two places

no sign of me

in the mirror of my mother

it's easier to hide

endless flat lands

too much corn, not enough apples

remembering the air around waterfalls

my childhood's apple tree

on the edge of rolling woods

borderland of dreams

'via Blog this'

1 comment:

  1. Apple orchards were part of my childhood, so this poem speaks to me. Also looking in one's mother's mirror, "easier to hide" - when I look in a mirror it is my grandma's face I see staring back. I especially love your closing lines.


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