Tree Limbs

We lived four houses down the block.

You nearly need a map today

To find locations

From those decades.

Everything's a different coloring.

You loved me shoving you

On top the tire swing,

Your feet stampeding clouds

On days of summer weather.

I loved the way the broken leaves

Would nest about your sweater

A season later.

You hadn't a clue.

A co-worker I can't even stand

Was close as we both leaned above

A boring green spreadsheet

Unneatly shuffled over a table.

She somehow found

And wears

The same lipstick you used when you were thirteen,

Scent of tempting chemicals and richness

Beyond,

A warning cherry apple red

That smelled nothing of fruit.

I heard you divorced and raised two women

On your own.

I hope the trees always bow and cling to you,

The clouds still flatten underneath your shoes.

- 12/18/25