the gingko tree
In the swell of the summer heat,
A gingko tree stands.
The pattering of small feet and elated laughter
Misspelled 3 letter words and spilled apple juice.
Winter comes,
Guidance morphs to frustration
Strained hands scratch into its bark
Dismantling its roots.
With streaks of blood-red love and misplaced obligation,
The gingko tree stands.
Hopeful faces come and go
Seeking solace on patchy grass,
Linked arms and joined hands
Tinkling of bells on their bikes fade into the distance from where
The gingko tree stands.
A man lingers underneath it—
One who is lonely as well.
Frost melts off golden leaves,
A spring creek rushes by in a flurry of passion
Under the bliss of idiotic grins and discussions over tea,
The gingko tree stands.
But the ever-moving is ever-moving.
The usual radiance of its petals has dulled
And its beauty has ebbed away.
It’s branches trembling with the weight of an unsteady heart,
The gingko tree stands,
No longer waiting.