I surround myself with signs. Signs that just make sense to my distorted and ever-hopeful heart. However, hard I try to be practical or realistic, I still seek those signs. Most of the times, out of desperation when my mind and heart are not in sync, other moments, I simply find them right in front of me. Without even trying at all, they just show up like an oasis in a desert. This poem is about one such sign, I often look for.

Dead and dried

Enduring storms, the tree is dead

No leaves to cover its splintering worth

Vines wrap themselves sucking on what is left

The broken branch upside down

Still sits on the tree

Uncomfortable, it sure looks

Stuck and hooked

I wonder which storm did that

Was it the one that broke her heart?

Or the one that shattered her dreams?

Sipping my coffee, I sit by the window

Wondering when will she finally give up?

Weeding and trimming all around it

I maneuver the snow angels and backyard picnics

Knowing in my heart,

It will give up one day

Falling to its extremity.

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