Deciduous by Edward O'Dwyer

Tell me, how does it feel?
But before you answer,
think about that tree;
remember, in the field
behind your house,
the one where we used kiss
when our feelings
first sprung to bloom;
where we took
a blunt knife, carved
a crude heart together
in the young bark;
where we inscribed
each other’s names
on the clean insides.
If you can see all of this
then maybe you can hear
the sound of leaves
rustling together
in a tender breeze,
sharing a rhythm,
skin over skin
and sinew for sinew.
Keep going. Follow
this thought, the vision,
the sound; follow
until, ever so suddenly,
I’m there with you,
waiting in chill silence
and shed leaves,
and I’ll ask you again,
how does it feel?
Does it feel like winter?
Does it feel as though love
has been stripped down
around your heart?
I know. I feel it too.