Rainforest

You noted the flecks of green

that make my eyes a forest

as your palms warmed my skin

and I saw yours: lake eyes –

crystal blue and grey on the surface

holding a world beneath them

that you never shared. You kept

your mysteries in the water

and did not look into my forest

where it grows dark, where shadows

fall over the leaves and willow trees weep,

where streams catch the tears of rain

and reflect patches of sunlight

even in the shady groves.

No – you held me at arm’s length

and called me beautiful but did not know me.

You never learned the paths

that weave and duck beneath slender branches

leading to wildflowers and honey,

golden leaves, broken trees,

and the spring at the forest heart

that holds a mirror up to nature.

You let me float atop the liquid rim

of your life, afraid to let me slip

into the cool depths of your all,

left me to wander in my woods alone.