Trees

As the end of the year nears

I walk these concrete sidewalks of my city

Evergreen soldiers stand tall 

Like majestic canopies

That line bodega’s boundaries

The scent of spruce and pine and fir

Always remind me of you

How we’d walk hand in hand

Through the East Village grid

I have such vivid memories

Of being in love with you

But now that you’ve been gone for years

There is nothing I can do

But visit your grave

And never hold your hand again

© 2014 David Greg Harth

14.12.22.24:12:02@130BklynNYC