As you walk along the trodden path in the deep forests,
on a bright sunny day,
you stumbled over a slippery
root.
This slippery root
belonged to a fragile and dying tree
far off the path.
Usually you would keep walking forward,
but unlike other trees whose roots you stumbled over,
you stopped and took a good
l o n g
look at this tree.
After a while, you started to walk off the path usually walked on by others,
toward the tree.

This tree rarely had visitors and was
excited,
but
sad.
The tree knew that after you came over and visited,
you would leave and continue
on the path, never to
come back again—just like the others.

As you walked up to the tree, it shook what leaves it had,
even though most were a
blackened yellow with a few
bluish-reds.
Despite the awful appearance of the tree, you still found interest.
After circling the tree many times,
and feeling the impenetrable and rough-hewn bark on your fingers,
the brittle branches stretched out to touch your skin,
but oblivious to the tree’s need,
you returned to the path and continued along
your way.



The leaves on the tree
darkened as it stood in
sorrowed silence.
Many days and nights passed by
as the tree stood
alone.




One day, you doubled back
and retraced your steps to the
root
you originally had slipped on.
Again, you walked off the usual path.

You circled the tree,
this time slowly—
you saw what no one else could see—
you took in the sight with
admiration—
you were looking at me.
You cared and saw me for what I was,
and not for the costume I was wearing.

Just as you had planned since
you truly found me,
you took my hand in yours, and led me
to the trodden path, where we walked
forward,
together.