on frail stems

See the moon?
Behind the stand of poplar trees
It’s not quite full
A deceptive slither has been hid from view
And tonight
The air is still and warm
You could hear anything you want
Like the ground talking
The stars winking
Or my heart beating
Here in the front yard
Alone and frail and very tired
Wondering what on earth I am doing here
Where I will be this time next week
And the week after that
And the week after
And thereafter
When maybe I should stay put
Give up the roaming and searching
Settle into some kind of normalcy
Accept the truths that come with life
Breathe the warm still night air
And release burning teardrops
Shaped like pulsing hearts
To slip away and soak into soil
So when I am gone they will grow
And remind you of me
Bright red pulsing hearts
On frail stems
Below the stand of poplar trees
Through which the full moon will shine
On a warm still night of memories.

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