The Whisper Tree

Upon her moonlight crafted gown,

Liquid starlight trickles down,

Splashing across her dew-filled leaves,

Among the words the young girl weaves.

Her secrets from her tongue they slipped

Directly from her heart they dripped.

Words the quiet one took gently

 Treasured within her roots intently.

Hopes and dreams she held there fast

Deaths and tears of living past

Endless suns and moons they shared

From their roots with nothing spared.

At darkest nights, the secrets shone

Memories told of blood and bone;

Each word was cherished by the tree

As she listened silently.

She held the secrets never said

Until her majestic posture fled,

And when the girl returned no more,

The whispered secrets she still bore.

Hidden stories dead and gone

With the newborn rising dawn

And where the faithful tree once stood

Lies a pile of forgotten wood.

--Megan

12-9-12

cirrus lilies

flit across the pensive ripples

with nothing to lose

their worries no longer

than a fire weed’s wisp

of breath in wind

ever-swirling

so gently they glide

and leap through the pods

of starlit moon blossoms

belonging nowhere

but to stories

not yet spoken

oh to be a cirrus lily

feeding on cherry roses

trodding never more

By Megan

forgotten in the alleyway

waiting lies the wooden wheel

with fragile neglected parts

for Carpenter hands to heal

By Megan

willowed hands stretch upward

leaving me behind

as they touch heaven

By Megan