My marriage is over, and I am sorely lost,
So I came to the place I once called home.
Here is where I learned to run away from people
And to find solace and peace in nature alone.
My old friend, Tree, was still there in the woods,
But all that’s left of him was a very large stump
That in the battleground that was my mind
Reminded me of a very large elephant’s trunk.
I sat down in the crook of that old tree,
And I talked to Tree as I always could.
There were no judgments and chastening,
Tree listened as nobody else would.
When all the pain and sorrow came out,
I knew that my mind wouldn’t crack.
So, I prepared to leave Tree one last time,
Knowing that he won’t last until I come back.
Written for the Sunday Photo Fiction for June 7, 2020 by Donna.