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'
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.
ReplyDelete