Two Trees

When two trees ripe with green vigor,
Under the seasoned sun they've lived,
Their tanned roots clinging to the earth,
Converge, a cooler shade it be.

When in time twisting tendrils touch,
Coiled in dewed leaves of wants and dreams,
Dancing the embrace of spilled soul,
Merge, the flower cloaked-still is free.

When the morn has bidden farewell,
And the sunshine now smiles no more,
The dew has dried and no leaf sways
Such, so shall again rise two trees.