(my apricotpie farewell)
We met under the grove
Bringing shade, bringing bright,
Laughing sadly or studying weakness with might.
Some bring their blindness, others their sight,
But the grove where we met never changed.
We cried the same joys and we held the same loss,
We raised different voice, yet obeyed the same God.
Our hates and our loves explored paths on one chase,
And the trees overhead lent us beautiful grace.
We helped others fall up in the grove.
We met under the grove in drabs of such hue
That color without it would never do
We tried to capture the rainbow with glue
Yet the grove never told us, “You fools!”
We met under the grove, but soon all’s said and done.
Words can’t feed practical trees; those need sun.
Releasing hands, we our break hearts one by one.
Nevermore shall the grove see us meet.
Perchance on the moor; in peace or with guns
To fight enemy soldiers. Will we be gloomy or fun?
Perchance in a garden; on the bank of a stream;
Perchance in the city or castle or rain—
But nevermore under the grove.
Farewell…
The trees ring with our laughs
Farewell…
Our tears
Farewell…
Our parting
Farewell…
The love that bound us well.
Farewell.