running

She was a tree at the edge of the forest
tall and pretty, and a little bit lonely
a few steps ahead of her fellow trees
and a little too close to road

she admired the road, smooth and long
and seemingly leading somewhere
where people longed to go everyday
any sense of the way

she admired those running
with the sun in their hearts in the morning
their hot heels hitting to road
trying to find a sense of direction

but they were all gone too soon
like the rays deviating at sunset
always to soon to hide for the night
and she stayed tall and pretty and lonely

at the edge of the road she was waiting
for something perhaps like the river
with many branches leading to something
she would never know

one day she heard a little voice singing
the bird had brought it from a windwow
where a girls was talking to her tree
one morning in april.

the road, the road must have led to the girl singing
the luscious road, the dusty road
the sunny road, the rainy road
one day will lead to singing.