I can no more change the course of time
than can a tree move from its yard of earth,
though my leaves are racing in the dulcet wind,
though speedwell blooms all about my girth.
You sat beneath the shade,
you tasted fruit upon the bough.
Then you were off and made your way
to another land. Where are you now?
I shall not weep - my tears have all run dry.
My heart is like an empty husk,
though I still keep a flower of hope
that someday you will come again.
The flaming sky at dusk
has turned to indigo too soon,
and I am rooted here
beneath the shining circle
of the rising moon.
© Alisha Sufit