It’s deeply rooted

small, bluish sinews branch into

letter M.

One side of the trunk is darker

due to Sun exposure, with amorph

golden-yellow spots.

As it breathes blood, exhales warmth

to feed small hill above its flesh.

 

It’s like a map, containing my life line

trimmed at several places.

It used to go all the way around the hill.

Bark is depleted, almost erased.

I cannot count to see how many rings of heart

have left me?

Humming bird’s song

echoes my soul

in the upcoming dawn.

Maja S. Todorovic

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