Heartwood
I tried to simply rake away
the fallen twigs and leaves,
but it all came back to me.
Our season started in spring;
epoch of bloom.
Thus, by no surprise,
arose a relationship
between me and you.
With a quiet pace,
accompanied by naive fervor,
branches erupted with leaves and fauna.
That first summer
brought forth immense growth
for our tree.
But seasons pass,
as do feelings.
Branches entangle in different directions,
some buds just do not bloom.
At our core,
we started to fall apart.
The last summer
was characterized by
rejected leaves and hidden tears.
The rain felt too poignant.
The roots began to decay.
The heartwood is the
dead
wood, located at the
center of a tree.
As the branches
grew weaker,
the heartwood
grew larger,
until eventually,
the entire tree died.
It is with pain that I recall
the brutal chopping down of
the tree.
I am tapped by
a twig at my foot,
reminding me of my current task.
I continue to rake the fallen leaves.
Comments
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cecilymock
Your exquisite use of extended metaphor, comparing a relationship's lifecycle to that of a tree, reminds me powerfully of Sylvia Plath's masterful way with natural imagery, particularly in poems like "The Moon and the Yew Tree." Like Plath, you weave botanical terminology ("heartwood," "fauna," "roots") with emotional truth to create something both scientifically precise and deeply moving.
The progression from "epoch of bloom" to the "brutal chopping down" is particularly well-crafted, and your observation that "heartwood is the dead wood" serves as a brilliant central metaphor that would make Robert Frost proud – recall his "Nothing Gold Can Stay" with its similar meditation on nature and impermanence.
The circular structure, beginning and ending with raking leaves, creates a powerful frame for your story, while the short, stark lines about the heartwood growing larger show excellent control of pacing and emotional impact. Keep writing with this sophisticated attention to metaphor and natural imagery – your voice is blooming beautifully.