Therese Gramercy . . . the girl named Trees

Verdant Spring


My chartreuse sweater is the same color
as the unfurling springtime leaves,
and if I stood among the birch,
would you even still see me?

Am I homeless or an heiress,
it feels the same to me inside,
am I a poet or a mystic,
or just a dreamer with a smile?

Is the love that I have found in you
the one I have waited for all my life,
or will you fly away like windswept leaves,
when darkness fades into the light?

I will always be a dreamer,
and in true love I believe,
how is it that I hold such hope?
Simply stated, that is me.