The tree- The lover.

It's sepia with a green kiss
It speaks to me in a language called instinct
It's the neighbour of my solitude
It's the angel; the angel of grief's bliss.

It loves me like a lover
And demands nothing whatsoever
It hugs me with its shedding
Sepia scraps on the streets covered.

It's one with me during time all
From my childhood to the teenage toll
It has stood unmoving and non judgmental
It has truly been an answered call.

The tree, the life it bestows on me
My friend among unseeing enemies
The love of whose life is a personification of quietude
The unconditional lover off the street.

It's dear to me, it's a special murmur
It's been there all weather
I'm a weakness and a strength
Of it's unasked affectionate river.

The tree- the lover.