We stood beneath the tree, you and me. Dark branches like nerves twitching. Could the tree feel it too? Me and you?
Underneath the ground where the footsteps pound, the roots are found. A mirror of the branches, the networked veins strain, drinking life. As I drink you in. Begging my brain to remember this.
Later, the sun would fail and the leaves fall and the sky turn pale. But I still remember when the sunlight fed the tree and I held you. And you fed me.