Heavy Branches

Like a snow storm in spring,

My branches are stripped from the weight,

Of who I once was.

Or maybe who I’m becoming.

Always running,

From golden fields filled with sun,

And stunning life.

It goes on,

Moving as I do.

A subtle reminder that taking space,

And finding grace,

Are the same thing as being brave.

For our choices give us direction,

Not permanence.

And age is just a sign,

That we were never meant to stay.

So just like flowers that bloom in my garden,

Planted by the hands,

Of someone who came before me.

I cherish colors that will never last forever.

A life fragile and precious,

Fleeting beauty, something treasured.

As the snow begins to melt,

So too do my worries,

Of fallen limbs,

I didn’t need to hold onto in the first place.

And from my perch I reach higher.

Inching closer to the sky,

Though still able to admire,

The vibrant shades,

Of violet,

Below.