My mother and I walked around outside before her death.
She smelled of industrial waste.
But I tell myself she smelled like flowers, anyways.
We walked through city, with much protest
as she saw grand urban unrest.
None the less, we walk on through, continuing without pursue.
We walked and talk and talked some more
to, maybe, out walk
the looming fear of no more.
and with each step
I talked of the next
I told her I'd plant a tree everyday she was sick.
"One day," I said,
"You and I will walk among the trees I planted.
We will hold hands and talk about life gone by ."
"We will speak of the wrongs and the rights,
how Holywood grows
and how not to cry."
"We will take a walk in this orchard I've grow.
I will tell you the name of each tree
and how they shared my emotion."
"This tree is named Relived,
For when the doctors told me
you would get better."
"This one is named Green
after the colors of spring
When everything is grown anew."
"And this is Overjoyed
I planted it yesterday
the sign of a full recovery."
We'd walk through the orchard
unveiling the secrets
of hundreds of trees.
We'd spend a life time and again
talking of silly things
because here we are and will forever be.
I stop as we end our walk.
Out of the city and into the town
of people and places
that are seen to profound.
Too focused by futures
I talked and talked the time by,
walking like oracles with futures of lies
I only panted three trees.